


Back to Derry

by revlark



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Everyone lives, F/M, I rewrite chapter two, M/M, Will have chapter by chapter warnings, except Georgie rip my man, i like gay Richie too but the book points more to bi Richie and I want to make mr. king angry so, richie has adhd, so does Andy musichetti, stan has ocd, stephen king wants what i have, violence is a little less than the actual movie for reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-11-09 04:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revlark/pseuds/revlark
Summary: A chapter two rewrite.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! As a general warning, this will be a longer fic, so it’ll have a bit of a longer wait between chapters. As for the violence thing, if you watched the movie and were okay, you should be fine. Still, I’ll include warnings.  
Warning: homophobia, almost hate crime, mention of internalized homophobia.  
Summary of the first section where this is most prominent available in the end notes.

Don Hagarty smiled as Adrian talked, walking home from the fair. Though Adrian didn’t mind Derry, they were leaving soon, and he was discussing what they should do to prepare for the drive. Don was almost entirely sure that they were fine enough as is, but his partner always wanted to make sure he was prepared. It was endearing, even if he couldn’t entirely understand it. Honestly, he was just glad Adrian had agreed to leave. The other man wasn’t a native, he didn’t understand how bad Derry could really be. He thought it was charming, coming from a big city. But Don had lived here all his life, and he knew how awful it was. How hateful the town was, to everyone different than the majority of citizens. At least he was finally able to convince Adrian to move. He would give anything to not be trapped here, but he wasn’t leaving Adrian. He hoped that he never had to leave him. They’d only been together a short time, but he could tell that Adrian was special. That they were right for each other. “Are you even listening to me?” He heard a voice from beside him, and Adrian was looking at him with fond exasperation in his eyes. “Was I just talking to the air, there?” He was teasing; he had a tendency to ramble to himself about things. Some found it annoying, but Don couldn’t help but find it cute. What that said about him, he didn’t know. Maybe that he thought everything Adrian did was endearing; it wasn’t his fault, though. 

“Maybe you were.” Don pointed out. “You know, I wouldn’t judge you. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve caught you doing.” He teased back with an easy smile, linking arms with the other man.

Adrian hit him lightly in the arm. “I’m sure I’ve caught you doing weirder. Everyone in this town is weird; don’t you remember telling me that?” He reached out, taking Don’s hand with a smile and turning his head back to the path. “Is that the kissing bridge up there?” He asked, smile growing wider. This was the only thing of note he hadn’t been to before, and he’d wanted to drag Don out tomorrow. He was far too charmed by this shitty town.

He looked ahead, squinting to see through the darkness. “It looks like it. It’s good luck to carve something in there, you know. That’s what everyone says. If you carve something, it’ll happen.” Don thought for a moment. “I don’t know if it’s only about love, but that’s what everyone’s always used it for. That, and teenage makeouts, I guess. If it really does make everything you carve happen, it seems like a bit of a waste.” He remembered being a kid, looking at each carving, sometimes even carving over the ones that had faded. He didn’t want them to fade; what if they hadn’t come true yet? It was a childish thought, but he supposed it wasn’t the worst thing to do as a child. He was sure Adrian would say it was sweet, while simultaneously making fun of him for it before bringing it up at every oppurtunity.

Don was hit again. “You’re no fun at all, you know that?” Adrian jogged ahead, kneeling down. “Some of these are so old! Probably older than us. Do you have a knife or something?” He looked determined to carve something of his own, already looking for a blank space in the wood, tracing his fingers over it. It was old, and he found himself mildly worried a section would fall.

He walked over, about to say the he didn’t, when something hit his shoulder. Don turned around, seeing a rock hit the ground. There, on the path, were the reasons they had left the fair in the first place. A trio of dumbass teenagers trying to start something with them. The cops hadn’t been much use either, just telling Adrian and him to go home and ignore them. Evidently, the boys had followed. He could hear his partner getting up, and winced in preparation for what he was going to say. Adrian always stood his ground, and while in some cases that was a wonderful quality, it just didn’t work in Derry. “You boys have a problem?” Adrian called, sounding defensive. “You lost or something?” Why did he have to do this? Sure, running away wasn’t a good option either, but it was better then whatever Adrian was planning on doing. He was going to get hit. Or worse. Judging by the boys’ expressions, probably worse. 

The ringleader scowled. “Our only problem is that you two fruitcakes think it’s okay to go parading around town.” Only two of the boys seemed ready to fight, while the third just looked like he wanted to go home. Don could certainly relate to that. The oldest of them looked maybe 17, and he found himself wondering how kids could be doing something like this. When he was their age, he’d probably be in bed or reading; these kids were preparing to commit a hate crime. Kids these days, a part of his terrified mind thought in a moment of dark humor.

Before he could say anything else, Adrian stepped forwards. “Parading? You mean, living our lives like everyone else does? If that’s what you call parading, I’ve got news for you. Didn’t you hear? What was legalized last year, huh? All fifty states, you know. A bit too late, but I don’t mind much. It’s 2016.” As if that was going to stop them. Derry was permanently stuck at least twenty years in the past. Some mixed race couples were still being harassed, though Adrian had told him sadly that that happened sometimes outside of Derry. Here in town, there were only three mixed race couples, and he could count on his hands the families who weren’t white.

He had to speak up at that. “Adrian, just keep quiet and keep walking. They’re just stupid kids, that’s all they are. We’re leaving soon, anyways.” Don whispered, grabbing Adrian’s arm and tugging a little. He really didn’t want a confrontation. They were outnumbered, and these boys looked like jocks. Neither of them were jocks even in high school.

The leader of the teenagers had picked up another rock. “You know, my dad says that y’all are going to burn in hell one day.” He said, idly tossing the rock up and down. “What’s the worst that could happen if I just, you know… sped up the process a little?” Oh god, not this. Derry may be bad, but Don couldn’t remember anything like this ever happening. Sure, his mom told stories, but those were all in the past. Still, he figured that he shouldn’t be all that surprised; what’s another reason to hate Derry? If he even survived, that is.

Adrian opened his mouth to say something when a car honked. Don had been too caught up in fear and frustration to notice a small car approaching from behind the group of teenagers. He heard the sound of a window rolling down, but he couldn’t make out the figure who stuck their head out. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” The figure’s voice sounded masculine and disapproving. “I noticed you three following these men home.” Thank god this guy was at least open to helping them. Though, a niggling part of Don’s brain reminded him that he may change his mind if he learned that they were gay. He might join the teens, or he might just drive away, or hell, even run them over or something. Never underestimate the crazy of New Englanders, especially those in this fucking town.

Don cleared his throat. “Just teenagers being immature.” He called back, proud of himself for his voice not breaking. “Nothing to worry about, really.” Adrian was always telling him that he downplayed issues, but he couldn’t remember himself ever being this bad about it. He felt something deep in the pit of his stomach, almost like he was being watched.

“These fairies were flaunting their sickness around the whole town!” One of the other teenagers said, the other one who had seemed excited for a confrontation. “We had to stop them. There are children living here, children who shouldn’t have to deal with seeing this! It isn’t natural.” Whose rhetoric was he spitting out now? Certainly one he’d learned at a young age. He found himself feeling a bit of pity towards the teenagers. He doubted that they would be acting like this, had they been raised differently. Plus, they were young enough that they still had an opportunity to change their mind.

He could feel Adrian grabbing his hand again, squeezing tightly. “We’re minding our own business. Besides, we’re leaving town soon. You’ll never have to see us again.” His partner still sounded enraged, and Don knew for a fact that he had never encountered this before, never encountered harassment for something he couldn’t change. How weird was that? He wondered what that felt like. Of course, he’d never had harassment to this extent, but he couldn’t imagine living in a world where you could be with who you love and not face difficulties based solely on their gender. He wanted to, of course he wanted to, but spending twenty five years in Derry kind of messed with your mind. That was what his mother had said.

The figure in the car got out, and Don could see it was a tall man with brown skin. “Why don’t you three boys leave these men alone? They were walking home, something they’re allowed to do no matter how you feel about what they are. And they already said they were leaving town. What does it matter to you, anyways?” Please have this guy be a genuinely good guy. He knew that he’d been nothing but on their side, but he couldn’t help from being a bit pessimistic. It came from living in Derry, he was sure of it. His mind kept coming back to the town, always ready to find a way to blame it. He was sure that it had something to do with it.

The third teenager finally spoke. “It isn’t right.” His voice was shaking. “It just isn’t right, sir. We had to do something.” Again with the rhetoric. They’d likely been raised on it. Being just little boys when told who and how to love. Don clenched his fists, looking between the boys and then at the driver of the car.

The man from inside the car crossed his arms over his chest. “Just leave them alone, boys, and we’ll all be happy. It isn’t hard to do. If this is a dare or something, go back and tell your friends you couldn’t do it. This isn’t worth getting hurt over.” Getting hurt? Was he trying to start a fight? Oh man, he wondered if he could drag Adrian away from a fight. While his partner was shorter than him, he knew how stubborn he could be. He didn’t doubt that Adrian would dig his feet in and refuse to move.

“We can’t leave them acting like this.” The ringleader said, tossing his rock again. “And if you won’t leave us to do this, then I guess we’ll just have to stop you, too.” Who had raised this boy, made him act like this? He knew that they weren’t outnumbered, but he wasn’t a fighting man, and Adrian definitely wasn’t. He didn’t want to get into a fight with three teenagers who probably had at least one knife between them. Definitely had a knife, maybe have a gun, was more like it. This was Maine, after all, the hillbilly center of the North.

The figure got back in the car, and Don’s heart sank. He was leaving them alone? Suddenly, the car started driving forwards slowly. The teens walked towards it, and it sped up. In order to get away, the boys went under the bridge. The driver of the car got out, looking at them with concern. “Are you two alright, now?” The man asked, looking between them. 

Don nodded, with a weak smile. “We’re fine, thank you.” He turned to his partner, putting a hand on Adrian’s back. “Do you need your inhaler? That was a lot.” He asked, already fumbling in his bag to try and get the spare inhaler he kept in there for emergencies. “I know you’re not used to things like this. Are you breathing okay?” He knew he sounded a little overbearing, but the incident had made him worry. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if his partner had an attack. He squeezed the inhaler in his hand as if it was going to offer him any comfort, but it remained cold, hard plastic.

Adrian laughed a little, waving his hand. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I can handle myself, you know. A little adrenaline rush isn’t something I fall apart at.” Despite his words, he smiled reassuringly, as if reassuring him that he really was okay.

The man looked between them with an expression he couldn’t quite place, before walking over to the bridge and looking down. When he stood up straight, his face looked ashy. “Do you two need a ride home?” He asked, tilting his head back to his car. Something was clearly wrong, but the man didn’t say anything about it. It couldn’t have been that bad; maybe the boys had just gotten away, and he had wanted to report them to the police. Not that they would do anything, especially since no one had actually gotten hurt, despite the threats.

“We’re fine, you can go now. Thanks again.” Don said. Though he was still interested in what was wrong, he decided he’d had enough of things going wrong today. He just wanted to go home and sleep. Maybe he’d be able to convince Adrian to leave tomorrow instead of next week like they’d planned.

He nodded, getting back in his car. “Get out of Derry.” The driver warned them. “Get out of here. I have some calls to make.” With that, he drove away.

—

Mike couldn’t believe what he had just seen. He’d had his suspicions, with how the teenagers had been acting and with the year it was, but he didn’t think he’d see anything like this. When he had checked on the boys, he had seen It. The clown. The bastard was eating them. He wanted to do something, do anything, but there were two men who needed his help. Anyways, he couldn’t take It on alone. He needed to contact the others. They needed to do what they had planned to do almost three decades ago. He pulled up to the library, ignoring the calls for ‘librarian’. Though he was the head librarian, and would probably get in trouble, he had more important things to do. Besides, they couldn’t afford to replace him. He opened the door to his apartment above the library, setting down his stuff and pulling out a sheet of paper, cracking his knuckles as he looked it over.

When some of his friends became famous, he’d found and recorded where they lived and their phone numbers. Maybe a little creepy, but it was important. He opened his computer to look up Stan and Eddie, finding their numbers and making note of their cities. It wasn’t that hard to find, and he found himself idly making a note to inform them of internet safety.

He took in a slow breath, trying to calm himself, before picking up his phone. He’d call Bill first; Bill was the one who made them swear to this, after all. Mike knew the others wouldn’t remember, knew about the influence of It, but he hoped he’d be able to make them all remember soon enough. He also hoped that when he had seen It, It hadn’t seen him as well. That would make everything a million times harder, especially if It decided to come and see him before the others got there.

With a slightly shaking hand, he typed in the number that popped up for Bill Denbrough, and pressed the call button.

—

Bill Denbrough was stuck, to say the least. He had to come up with a better ending, and fast, because if he didn’t, the studio would pull the movie adaptation of his latest book. “I know my ending’s bad.” He was speaking with his agent, Audra, on the phone. “But what don’t they like about it? I can’t exactly write one of the characters back to life, if that’s what they’re talking about. It’s horror, Audra, and people die in horror!” He ran his hands through his hair, looking at the draft for the script in his hands, heavily dogeared.

He could hear Audra sigh on the phone. “Billy, this is the fourth time in a row you’ve separated the couple. At first it was new and unique, but sometimes people just want a happier ending. Besides, this time it’s between two women, and it’s a trope to kill the gay character at this point.”

“I didn’t mean to make it a trope!” Bill put the script down. “How would I know it was a trope when I hardly have time to read or watch anything that isn’t my own work?!?”

Audra chuckled a little. “Self centered, much?” She teased lightly, and for a moment he felt bad for putting her through all of this. “Just make it more ambiguous, maybe? Or add in a scene at the end with Vicky with a girlfriend! Hell, maybe make it so that Evelyn doesn’t even die in the first place! I mean, it’s easy to make the bullet wound non fatal; half of your protagonists have been amputees.”

Bill groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It made narrative sense to kill Evelyn off, and - “ Before he could finish, he could hear a call begin to beep through, which he was thankful for. “ - hang on, I’ve got a call coming through.” He ended the call with Audra before she could say anything, and picked up the other call. “Hello, Bill Denbrough speaking?” He said into the phone, propping it up between his ear and his shoulder as he opened the document on his computer; he might as well try multi-tasking to make Audra not completely pissed at him.

The person on the other end cleared their throat. “Bill, it’s Mike Hanlon from Derry. It’s back.”

As the words were spoken, Bill was hit with an array of memories. His childhood, Georgie, his friends, the clown, thinking he was going to die, the Losers, the blood pact, twenty seven years. Mike, Stan, Eddie, Richie, Bev, Ben. Twenty seven years. It was back. It was back It was back ItwasbackItwasback- “Mike?” He asked, voice hoarse. “Mike, It - how do you know? What happened? Oh my god, Mike, I forgot, I fucking forgot, I swore I wouldn’t.” His cheeks felt wet and he breathed in, shuddering as the air entered his lungs. Were they all okay? Were more kids going missing? Had Mike seen It, did It try and do something to him, try and kill him? 

“It’s okay, Bill.” Mike’s voice said, and he knew he wasn’t talking about the clown. “Slow down. Breathe. We’ve all done this before, and we can all do this again.”

Bill swallowed, taking the phone in his hand. “Are you alright? Have you called the others; are they okay? Are they coming?” He asked, getting more and more memories as he spoke. He felt like he was going to throw up. He’d forgotten. He’d always thought it was weird how he couldn’t date, how he considered his manager his best friend, how she was his platonic date to any events. Because he had six holes in his heart. Because even though Audra was amazing, she wasn’t a Loser.

Mike’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You’re the first one I’ve called. I think It’s only just awake; I can’t explain details, not through the phone. I don’t know if It can listen. But you need to come to Derry as soon as possible. We need to finish this. Together.” He sounded so sure of himself. “Each of the seven need to be there. I think I found something we can try.”

He blinked at that; something they could try? “Okay, I’ll try to come as soon as I can. Do you want me to help you call the others?”

Bill didn’t need to see Mike to know that the man was smiling on the other end. “No, I’m fine. Thanks, Big Bill. I’ll see you in Derry, okay?” With that, the other man hung up the phone, and Bill was left wondering how he was going to explain this sudden trip to Audra. 

—

Ben Hanscom had just come home from work, smiling at his dog. “Hey, Nina.” He said in a goofy tone, kneeling down to pet the mutt. She was his baby, the only one other than him to live in his big house. The dog hopped up on his chest, licking all over his face, making him sputter about. She was only around twenty pounds, but she made up for it with her energy.

Honestly, though he greatly enjoyed his job, she was what he really looked forward to. Nina was who kept him company, after all. He would never admit it, but he could find himself getting more than a little lonely. She helped. She didn’t care about his architecture, she cared about him. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by the ringing of his phone. Nina got off of him, starting to bark as he groaned, getting up to answer it. Ben pulled it out of his pocket and smiled, though the person on the other end obviously couldn’t see him. “Ben Hanscom speaking?” He greeted; the number had displayed an unknown caller i.d, but that wasn’t unusual, considering his line of work. The two most likely options were that it was a scammer, or it was a new customer.

“Ben? Ben, this is Mike Hanlon from Derry calling you.”

As the words were spoken, he found himself remembering everything. The new kid, It, the sewers, topmost hub of disappearances in the world. Bev, Mike, Bill, Eddie, Richie, Stan. 27 years. The blood oath, the Easter egg hunt bombing. ‘I’ll be forty and far away from here!’ Like that had helped him. “Mike?” He asked, voice breaking like he was thirteen again.

The voice he remembered so well, although changed. Mike Hanlon. “It’s back, Ben. I’m so sorry. We need to all go back; you need to come back.”

He shook his head. “I- what happened? Did you call anyone else? Is everyone okay? Have people started… disappearing? Has- It, has It shown Itself to you? Are you alright?”

Mike let out a weak sounding chuckle. “I’m fine, and I already called Bill. He’s coming. I can’t explain much over the phone, but you need to come as soon as you can. I think we can stop It, for real this time. We just need all seven of us here. Only for a few days, I swear it, then it’ll be over, and we can all go home.”

Ben cleared his throat. “I’ll go.” He didn’t know why he said it, but he did. “I’ll go. See you there.” He hung up, flopping down on the couch hard. Nina leapt up beside him, getting on his lap and he tiredly picked up his phone to call the neighbors and see if they could maybe watch her.

—

Beverly Marsh entered the limo, smiling at her driver as he prepared to drive her home. She’d just finished a fashion show, the first after the divorce, and while everyone had been relatively supportive, it didn’t stop her from tiring quickly. “How are you, then?” She asked; unlike some of her peers, she was genuinely interested in the people around her, even if they weren’t famous. She was kind of famous among the world of drivers, assistants, and personal trainers as someone who’s nice and gives you more money than required. Why wouldn’t she, anyways? She had enough to spare.

The driver smiled back. “I’m fine, thank you Miss.” He replied, handing her her personal phone. “This was ringing a few seconds ago. It’ll - “ It began ringing again. “- yeah.” They both laughed, before she took it with a smile.

“Hello, yes, Beverly Marsh speaking?” She answered, vaguely wondering if it was a celebrity. If it was, she found herself hoping it wasn’t too eccentric a request; she was too tired right now to be able to comprehend someone like Lady Gaga’s requests right now. Was it rude to tell someone to call back tomorrow? Well, if it were Gaga, she likely wouldn’t mind.

The voice on the other end cleared its throat, and she would hear it was a man. “Bev?” She was about to say that only close friends called her that when he continued. “I’m Mike Hanlon, from Derry.”

As quick and natural as breathing, she was hit by memories. Her father, It, that summer, blood, holding hands in a circle, Deadlights, cutting her hair in the bathroom herself with tears in her eyes. Ben, Bill, Eddie, Richie, Mike, Stan. Her boys. “Oh my god.” She whispered. “Mike? Is It back?” Twenty-seven years. She didn’t need to do any math in order to know how this was the year.

He laughed incredulously. “Yes, it is. You need to come back to Derry as soon as you possibly can. I already called Bill and Ben.”

She nodded, swallowing bile. “Yes, yes of course.” Bev glanced to her driver; though he was a nice man, she wasn’t sure she trusted anyone other than her boys with this. “We can’t talk now, but I’ll be there. I’ll see you in Derry.”

“Of course.” Mike said before hanging up the phone. Bev thought for a moment before putting down her own phone.

She cleared her throat, and when the driver looked at her in the mirror, she smiled at him. “Could you be a dear and tell people that if they need to contact me, to call by phone or to email me? I have to go back to my hometown for a private wedding.”

—

Eddie Kaspbrak’s day had been exhausting, to say the least. He liked his job, he really did, but his coworkers were more than a little insufferable, especially Myra. He was sure that she was perfectly nice as a person, but her bedside manner was terrible, and that was the worst thing for a doctor. He was just glad to be home. He set down his keys, and used some hand sanitizer. Old habits die hard, even if he had recently stopped using his inhaler. He sat down on his couch, taking in a breath and letting out a long, deep sigh, rubbing at his eyes. Being a nurse, especially a male nurse, was harder than people thought.

He groaned loudly when the phone rang. Eddie blindly reached for the phone, answering the call without opening his eyes. “Eddie Kaspbrak here, who is it?” He barely resisted from asking ‘what is it’ instead.

“Eddie? This is Mike Hanlon, your old friend from Derry. We have a situation here.”

Almost immediately, his head was swarmed, and he felt for the first time in years like he needed his inhaler. Broken arm, It, Georgie, sewer, greywater, blood oath, not a loser but a lover. “LOOK AT ME!” A plead from another boy. Richie. That was his name. Richie, Bill, Stan, Bev, Mike, Ben. All losers. All together. Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven years. The clown. The leper. Gazebos?

He coughed, as if he really needed his inhaler. “Mike?” God, he sounded like he was a kid again. God. He felt like he was a kid again. “Is It back? It’s been almost thirty years, hasn’t it?”

Mike paused for a moment. “It’s back, Eddie. We all need to come back. Each of the lucky seven, each of the losers. We need to get It for good this time. I have a way, I can’t explain now, but you need to try and get to Maine as soon as you possibly can, okay? We don’t want anything to happen to these kids. They may live in Derry, but they’re just kids.”

His head was starting to pound, and he fumbled for his laptop. “I guess I have no choice.” He said quietly, before hanging up and starting to write a fake email to his boss that his aunt on his father’s side had died unexpectedly. He gave an odd sort of smile as he typed in that her name was Penny.

—

“Alright, I’d love to make fun of myself more, but I really have to go. Yeah, the security guy’s eyeing me, and I’m pretty sure that if I keep on going then I’ll get my spine ripped out. Goodnight Chicago! Please don’t hurt me!” Richie Tozier wrapped up his show with ease, walking off stage and into the wings with ease. He took the water bottle from his assistant, and waved off his manager, saying he’ll talk to her later. Even though it was his own material, sticking to the script was exhausting. Also, some assholes had brought their eight year old, and he had to fight the urge to call cps, because he was pretty sure forcing a child to listen to the shit that came out of his mouth was abuse.

He avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he sat down; no self hatred spirals today, thanks. And it wasn’t even the fun kinds like when he had internalized homophobia!

He was simultaneously relieved and exhausted as the phone started ringing. Richie found himself hoping it was a wrong number, because career calls were surprisingly formal even when you were a comedian. He answered anyways. “Richie Tozier’s the name of the wrong number you’ve got.” He said after noticing that he hadn’t saved this particular phone number into his contacts. No one new ever called him.

At least he could hear the chuckle coming from the other end. “Hey, Richie.” Why was this familiar? Goddamn deja vu, making him think he was going crazy ten years earlier than scheduled. “It’s Mike Hanlon, and it isn’t a wrong number. I’m calling from Derry. You got a minute?”

Derry. Derry, Derry, Derry, damn that place to hell. That was the first thing he remembered before the rest hit him like a punch in the gut. Clown, barrens, someone else’s cast, blood oath, so much blood, a girl floating, fear piercing his gut, trying too hard to impress. Eddie, Stan, Bill, Bev, Ben, Mike. Eddie. Eds. He hated being called that, the other boy had. An oath to come back. Come back. Twenty-seven years. “Mike, if you’re joking then I swear - “

“It isn’t a joke, Richie.” Mike was quick to clarify. “It’s back, and you need to be too. I’ve called everyone else except Stan, we need to kill It for good. Come back.”

He shook his head, pressing his forehead into his free hand. “Are you sure? You’re sure the bastard’s back? It wasn’t just some ugly asshole, because there are a lot of ugly assholes in that town.”

A sigh came from Mike’s end. “I’m positive; I wouldn’t be calling you otherwise. That would be cruel.”

He swallowed bile that rose in his throat. “I mean, I fucking guess! What else am I supposed to do?” As always, Richie’s mind was processing a million different thoughts at once. At least he’d finished his tour. What would he tell his agent? Could he even book a plane ticket so late? Wasn’t Eddie how he realized he liked guys? Of course he forgot who did that.

Mike probably then said something like ‘see you there’ because he was a dork, and Richie was left with him being hung up on. He set down his phone, before moving so he was laying down on his stomach, head pressed to the arm rest.


	2. Stanley Uris Doesn’t Take A Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan’s starting to wonder if maybe his ocd is influenced by something else, too.
> 
> Five out of seven Losers arrive; time to wait for the other two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; this deals with suicidal thoughts, even though Stan doesn’t end up actually committing suicide. These thoughts begin with ‘without his consent, Stan's mind started saying a solution’ and end with ‘wait. What was he saying?’ There is some mentions to the fact that he had suicidal thoughts, but nothing like before. Stan also deals with intrusive thoughts, and mentions having thought about stabbing before, but he would never seriously do it, as that is the nature of intrusive thoughts.

Stanley Uris wasn’t having a good day. He was tired, upset, and hungry all at the same time, and though his housemate hadn’t done anything wrong, he found himself scowling at Patty. He felt bad when she looked confused, so now that was added to the mix as well. His next therapy appointment wasn’t for another week and a half, and he hated venting to Patty. Though he knew logically it didn’t, he always felt like it made him seem like he was weak, like he was whiny. He took off his shoes at the door before retreating to his bedroom with a sigh. He normally liked his job, but he’d had a lot of intrusive thoughts recently, which had made it a living hell. 

If he had to choose, he’d say that the worst part of having obsessive-compulsive disorder were the intrusive thoughts. Stan knew that they weren’t him, but that didn’t stop him from being disturbed by them to no end. Of course, that was what they did.

He’d be going about his day when suddenly his mind thought about what would happen if he stabbed the person next to him. What would happen if he hit his boss, if he kicked Patty. His mind was constantly coming up with disturbing thoughts for him to obsess over. Ones that were violent, sexual, or both, with him being either the victim or, more commonly, the perpetrator. And he couldn’t just get rid of them. The only things that would soothe him would be feeling rough textures, counting his steps, or talking about birds. He didn’t know why, no one did, but they usually helped his mind to push aside the thoughts. Stan sighed, fully prepared to just relax as best as he could for the rest of the day, lazing about on his bed.

Almost as soon as he sat down, he heard his cellphone start to ring in his pocket. Like it had been waiting for him to do that.

He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, remembering how Patty had recommended that one time. Though they weren’t together, had only dated a few months in their twenties, she was a lifelong friend, and they’d been sharing a house since they were 25, neither wanting to live alone despite being single. It was a good arrangement, with the two getting along well and happy to just sit in the same room in silence, each doing something different. It sounded boring and awkward, but those were probably his favorite times.

“Hello? It’s Stan Uris, speaking.” They probably knew that if they were calling him, but he hadn’t had them save into his contracts, something which he did meticulously ever since he’d been able to figure out how. There was a chance that this was a wrong number. Though it would be awkward, he found himself hoping it was true, so he would have an excuse to be sarcastic to someone.

Once more, he was pulled from his thoughts. “Stan?” Why was this voice so familiar if he didn’t have the caller’s contact saved? “It’s Mike Hanlon calling, from Derry. It’s back, Stan.”

As soon as he opened his mouth to ask what the hell this Mike man was talking about, he remembered. He remembered all of it at once, losing all the breath in his lungs as if he were drowning. The clown, the painting, becoming a man, twenty seven years, the scars he thought were just due to a bad case of acne, his friends almost dying. Mike, Bill, Eddie, Richie, Bev, Ben. Seven. Seven was a lucky number. It, the word they had called the monster of their childhoods. “No.” He said, voice broken. “No, It can’t be. We defeated It, remember? When we were thirteen.” Now, he was pleading, begging Mike to suddenly realize that he had made a mistake, that It wasn’t really back, that he had been paranoid and hadn’t been thinking straight. A part of Stan was ready to forgive him for the mistake. Then, they’d be able to catch up, and he’d be able to call and catch up with the others, too. Then, they could have a normal, non-threatening meetup. Like most childhood friends would have.

The other end was silent for a moment. “It didn’t work, Stan.” Mike said, voice gentle and comforting and infuriating all at the same time. “But I have a plan to make it work. But we need you there, Stan. Everyone else is on their way, but we need seven. We need all of the Losers.” He sounded like he was almost excited. 

Stan screwed his eyes shut. “I can’t go back to Derry.” He said quietly. “I can’t.” When Mike started to protest, he interrupted the other man. “No, I wasn’t in the blood pact. Remember? I walked away before you got to me.” He had been scared, both of the possibility of It coming back and at the possibility that he may be urged by his head to stab one of his friends with the dirty piece of glass. “I’m sure that whatever idea you have, it won’t work, because I didn’t make the pact. Only six of the seven did.” Only six. His mind started repeating that over and over. Only six.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay, Stan, but you just need to be here.” Mike’s voice was basically the only thing that was keeping him grounded right now.

But he’d always been a bit of a masochist. “I’ll see.” He said simply, before hanging up. He set down the phone carefully on the bedside table before he began to spiral. His mind went through different scenarios, all unbidden. Every last one ended with he and his friends dying. They repeated in his mind over and over. Bev with a broken neck. Ben’s head severed from his neck. Richie stabbed through the stomach. Eddie caught in the deadlights before being eaten. Bill foaming at the mouth, having asphyxiated. Mike with his spine broken. He never saw his own death, but he always knew it happened.

He started to notice the pattern; the cause was always him. Stan calling for help, Stan caught in the deadlights, separated from the others, having a panic attack, breaking his leg, twisting his ankle. Always him.

Without his consent, Stan’s mind started saying a solution. It seemed simple enough.

If he were dead, the other six would be fine. They could handle themselves; they’d be sad, sure, but if anything, this would be more motivation for killing It. He had no doubt in his mind that they’d be able to do it. He didn’t know what Mike’s plan was, but even if it didn’t work, they’d be able to find a way. They were clever, strong, brave, and most of all, they had each other.

He felt his eyes tear up, but he smiled. Stan could do this. It was the least he could do, really. 

Stan got to his feet, his exhaustion and hunger forgotten. He walked over to his desk in the corner of his room, pulling out a pen and paper. He needed to at least leave them something. Seven letters; one for each Loser, plus Patty. He’d tape hers to the door, so she knew to call the police instead of entering his room. She didn’t deserve to find his body. He’d leave her most of his money, he decided.

He briefly debated if he should tell her everything, before deciding to go with it. What did he have to lose? Besides, she was the only ‘normal’ person that Stan could expect to understand all of this.

As he wrote, he gave thought on how to do it, before coming to a conclusion. Not the most painless, but he could deal with a little pain. He wasn’t going to be killed by that fucking clown. He would take things into his own hands. He would be able to take control for once.

He finished each of the letters for the Losers, taking out plain white envelopes. He put them in gently, deciding he’d leave these by the door. They were labeled with care, putting them aside. Now, to start on the hardest one; Patty’s. Stan heard a knock on the door, and quickly put the letters in a drawer. He didn’t want her to see these. “Stan? Are you alright?” Patty called softly, sounding concerned.

“I’m fine, really. Sorry for scowling.” He replied quickly.

Stan hoped that would be enough to placate her, but he didn’t hear her footsteps. “Is it alright if I come in? I have a glass of water; you said that helps sometimes.” Normally, he would welcome something like this, but today…. she couldn’t, not today.

Wait. What was he saying? Was… had he been seriously considering this? Seriously considering this, abandoning his friends? He couldn’t! That would make him far more of a failure than any of his thoughts.

He gripped the edge of the desk, feeling dizzy. “Yes, please come in.” Stan croaked, knowing that despite how awful he felt, he needed company. He wondered vaguely if the reason he had felt suicidal was because of his brain, or the influence of It. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know what was the cause.

The door opened, and Patty came in, clutching the water glass like it was a lifeline. She smiled nervously at him, as if he were a wild animal. “How are you really feeling, then?”

Stan swallowed. “Not… not great, honestly.” He thought for a moment. “Patty, I’m going to tell you something, and you need to promise me you’ll believe me. Promise me that you won’t call me crazy, alright?” He asked cautiously, staring at his feet and digging his nails into the wood of his desk. A part of him couldn’t believe that he was going to tell her this, but then again, he may very well die when trying to defeat this thing, so it was now or never.

She bit her lip, before nodding slowly. “I promise, Stan. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

He didn’t know what he did to deserve both the Losers and a friend like Patty. “I just got a call from my hometown. That place… it’s evil. It… something happened that traumatized me. All of my friends, too. But we have to return. We have to, I don’t have a choice.”

“How long do you have to stay, Stan?” His housemate asked, walking towards him slowly.

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know.” Stan said truthfully. “But honestly, I was considering suicide.” Patty was silent. “Derry’s evil. I don’t know if you’d understand, but it’s not meant for normal people like you and I.”

Patty nodded again. “Alright. Well, do you want me to come with you? I can try to help any way that I can. I don’t want you to deal with something like this all on your own.” She was fiddling with her hair, something he noticed that she’d do whenever she was nervous.

Stan found himself wishing she would come. “I’m sorry, but you can’t. I’ll call you when I’m there, though; I can promise you that.”

She cleared her throat. “And… I know this isn’t the best thing to say, but… please don’t kill yourself. You’re basically my best friend, and I know a lot of people care about you. If you want to talk to me about anything, please feel free.” Patty said earnestly, and he again felt terrible about considering it seriously in the first place. Imagine if he had gone through with it.

He smiled at her. “I won’t, don’t worry. And I’ll be sure to tell my therapist about this.” Well, as much as he could tell the man. “Thank you.”

—

Mike was mildly surprised when Eddie and Bev were the first to show up, but even more so when they showed up together. “We were on the same plane.” Beverly had explained as she hugged Mike tightly. “We were in New York all this time; can you believe it? We found out we were even in the same neighborhood. It’s crazy.”

“We could’ve run into each other, if not for the fact that she’s famous.” Eddie said, smiling as he hugged Mike next.

Bev snorted, with a roll of her eyes. “First of all, I’m not that famous. I’m just a fashion designer, not a household name. Secondly, so-called ‘famous’ people have to do things too! We were just as likely to run into each other in the grocery store then anything else.” When Mike had heard of their jobs, it had made perfect sense to him. He’d even looked at a few of Bev’s pieces, being able to find the girl he knew in them. Though it might seem odd, he had been proud of them all. At the same time, he couldn’t help from feeling a tug of envy. They’d all been able to leave Derry, unlike Mike. But he didn’t blame them for it, not even in his loneliest and most hateful moments. He didn’t think that he could ever blame them.

The next to arrive was Stan, looking flustered and tired. “I can’t stand planes.” He said simply as the others greeted him. Still, he was smiling, and pat each of their backs, though he was never a hugging person.

“I’ve never been on a plane, but I can imagine that they’re not your scene.” Mike said with a chuckle. “Oddly enough, I can’t imagine bird boy flying.”

Eddie smiled, pulling out a pack of disinfectant wipes. “I had to wipe everything down with these.” He confessed. “Even in the airport. People thought I was crazy, but I don’t care. As a nurse, you hear horror stories a lot more than the average person.”

Beverly hit him lightly, a huge grin on her face. “I called it! I knew you’d be in the medical field. It’s so fitting. When we all first met, and you were patching Ben up, I could see that you were talented, and I didn’t even know your name.” She looked almost as if she were glowing, and it was easy to see her thirteen year old self, despite her crow’s feet and how she’d grown.

Stan tucked a loose curl behind his ear. “It wasn’t hard to guess.” He quipped. “I mean, all of us have pretty predictable jobs. It’s not like one of use became anything too wild.”

Mike nodded at that, as another taxi came in. Though he already knew Ben looked different, in that moment it was so easy to see thirteen year old Ben Hanscom standing in front of them, looking excited, shy, and in awe all at the same time. 

As he hesitated, the other Losers pulled him into greetings, and Mike couldn’t help but noticing Ben and Bev lingering with each other. Just like they always did. It was kind of amazing, them all interacting. Though they talked about the ways their lives had gone, it didn’t take long for them to lean back into their old dynamics. It made him almost unable to wait for when the others showed up. It also made him wish this was a regular reunion between old friends, instead of a clown killing meetup, but he supposed he could get one of those organized, if he could manage to convince everyone to come here in the first place. Just… maybe not in Derry. Definitely not in Derry, actually. Even with that thing gone, Mike was sure that the town would never be normal or safe.

“Where are the others?” Ben asked. “Are they running late?” He looked worried, looking around as if Bill or Richie would step into view.

Beverly smiled, patting his arm. “They’ve both got more work than us, so they’re coming tomorrow.” Mike, Stan, and Eddie looked at her, and she blushed a little. “I looked up their numbers; Ben’s too. It was easy enough, working in the industry. I just couldn’t find yours.” She gestured to Eddie and Stan.

Eddie looked as if he just thought of something. “That’s another thing we should do.” He announced. “Now that we have the technology, we should have each other’s contact information.” He laughed softly, almost to himself. “I wonder if things would have been different, if we’d have had these things when we were kids. Maybe we wouldn’t have forgotten.” He sounded sad, almost wistful.

“We’d have been insufferable with them.” Stan pointed out. “When I moved, I would have been glued to mine.”

Mike chuckled. “All of us would have. Now, would you like to go inside? I assume you’ve all booked rooms, right?” He’d already made sure they had, of course, but he couldn’t exactly help checking once more. 

When they entered the motel, they found it to be mostly empty, to no one’s surprise. After all, who would visit a place like Derry? They were more so surprised that no one was behind the counter. “Hello?” Ben called, looking around for any workers. Beverly had tensed, holding on to Ben’s arm tightly. Eddie was biting his lip, looking as if he was ready for something to jump out at them.

They all jumped when they heard a noise, a little girl sticking her head out from the end of the hall. “What are you doing here?”

Stan blinked, still looking uncomfortable. “We’re trying to check in. Do you know where the workers are?” He seemed to be trying to hide the fact that he had looked ready to fight just a few minutes ago.

Mike leaned down a little. “Where are your parents?” He asked. “They’ll be worried about you.” Really, he was more worried about her then her parents were, he was sure. He was the one who knew what Derry was truly like, after all. What dangers were truly lurking just below the surface of the little town.

The girl stepped out, wearing an old fashioned dress with a bow around the waist and Mary-Jane shoes. “You really shouldn’t be here, you know. You shouldn’t be here.”

“...what?” Eddie said, looking very confused.

Bev kneeled down. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why shouldn’t we be here?” She tensed. “Did you… see anything, anything wrong?” She reached out to touch the girl’s hand, and the child dipped her head.

The girl mumbled something. “Can you say that again, dear?” Mike requested questioningly, looking at the others with hesitation.

She lifted her head up again. “I was going to a birthday party.” The kid said simply. “Why didn’t you save me?” She started giggling unnaturally, as if someone had said the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Why didn’t you save me, heroes? Martyrs? You could have saved me.” Tears started running down her face, and she screamed. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE ME?!?” She screeched, clothes suddenly tearing and head resting on her shoulder at an impossible angle, looking as if it were broken.

Quickly, Bev reached for what wasn’t a little girl, but it quickly disappeared, leaving her looking at her empty hands. Someone dressed in a uniform came from a back area and looked at them, confused.

They were all breathing hard, looking at each other. Finally, Stan spoke. “I suppose we might as well check in.” The others looked at him incredulously, and he shrugged. “Well, what else can we do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this, everyone!
> 
> As someone with ocd, Stan’s experiences are based off of my own. They may not be accurate to everyone, but I like to think that his and mine are fairly similar. Also, I couldn’t resist adding Patty, so now she’s basically Stan’s platonic life partner. Fun fact: I imagine this version of her to be a lesbian!


	3. Not Kids Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you’re an adult, sometimes you realize that you haven’t changed as much as you thought you have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! The gang’s back together again, and the fortune cookies aren’t as good as they look.

A teenage boy rode on his bike alone, clutching the handlebars so tightly that his knuckles were white. He was Eddie Kaspbrak, age fifteen, and he wasn’t used to being on his own. Not that he really was; though Bev and Ben had moved, the latter last week, the rest of his friends were still in Derry. But Eddie wasn’t interested in hanging out with them right now. Now, his brow was furrowed, and he was determined, heart pounding in his chest. Though logically he knew this wasn’t exactly the scariest thing he’d ever done, he couldn’t help from feeling in his gut that it was. Finally, he reached his destination.

He took in a deep breath, stopping his bike and leaning it up against the bridge, swallowing bile. Eddie stepped out on the kissing bridge, ignoring the niggling little thought that it was going to fall underneath him.

Eddie opened his fanny pack, something he rarely wore nowadays, and pulled out a small cutting knife he had stolen from the kitchen. He didn’t even know why his mother had it; she rarely cooked. However, he did know that she would have a heart attack if she saw him with it, which made him feel a bit of a thrill. He held it carefully, looking for a blank spot in the wood.

He found an area near the bottom; good. He didn’t really want anyone to see this. Honestly, he didn’t even fully comprehend why he was doing this.

Maybe letting it out in any way, even through carving it quietly and telling nobody, would make him feel better. Maybe it would take the edge off.

Eddie didn’t believe the rumors, didn’t think that whatever you carved came true. It was just some dumb bridge that was probably supported by unstable, rotting planks. But it was a convenient place, and that was all that mattered; it wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in on him here.

Carefully, he started carving with the knife, being sure not to get any splinters. Sure, the rebellion of stealing the knife was nice, but even if it would make his mom freak out, he didn’t want to get hurt. He wasn’t crazy.

He sat back on his heels, looking at his work. It was simple; an initial with a heart around it. Still, it made him feel like everyone was going to look at it and know. Even though he was sure there were multiple people with names starting with that letter in Derry. Even though he knew that this wasn’t exactly a place where people look at the carvings and try to make them out.

Eddie jumped when he heard a bike; guess some people did come here after all. He quickly put away the knife, getting his bike and riding away, heart pounding as he left behind the heart with the ‘R’ carved inside.

—

Surprisingly, the night passed without much incident. There were some nightmares, sure, but they were pretty sure they were just nightmares. Bev found that she was the one who had woken up latest, to the others’ amusement. Still, what mattered was that they were all going to be together again. All seven of them, just like they were meant to be.

Breakfast was simple, at least; no scares or danger to be had there. For that, Beverly was grateful. She didn’t know what would happen if they were to deal with the bastard without caffeine in their systems. Now it was around noon, the time when the others were supposed to arrive. She waited with Mike, Ben, Stan, and Eddie, crossing her arms over her chest and straining slightly to see if she could see any cabs coming. Then, Stan wracked her, and she was about to ask what the hell his problem was when she saw a cab start to pull up.

Out stepped one Richie Tozier, and she felt proud of herself that she could recognize him immediately even after all of these years. That was five for six, and she found herself hoping that Bill hadn’t changed too much over the years.

Just like last night, the most recent Loser to arrive was swarmed by the others as quick as they could, and she found herself hugging him tightly. “Okay, good, Bev’s already trying to kill me. Nothing’s changed.” She heard Richie say from above her; God, when had he gotten so tall? She couldn’t remember him being this tall when she moved.

“She’d kill all of us if given the chance and you know it; you’re not special.” Eddie said, though she could see he was smiling. Beverly wasn’t an expert, but she was pretty sure that was Eddie speak for ‘I missed you’.

Richie stepped back from the hug. “I’ve never once thought I was special; how dare you assume that. I’m the humblest person you’ve ever met, Eds, and that’s a fact.” She also wasn’t an expert in this, but she was pretty sure that was Richie speak for ‘I missed you too.’

Stan rolled his eyes. “If you two don’t stop bickering, then I’ll kill you both.” He said, crossing his arms. 

Bev heard a car pull up, and sure enough, another taxi had come. “That’ll be Bill.” Ben said; when she looked at him, he looked embarrassed, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She smiled at him, patting his arm wordlessly as their childhood friend opened the car door.

The first thing she heard from the others when she saw Bill was Richie’s laughter. “I guess the nickname ‘Big Bill’ wasn’t very accurate at all.” He said as the rest of the group went to greet the Loser. “Seriously, it looks like you haven’t grown since we were thirteen. Do you have a birth defect or something?

It only made sense for Bill’s first words in front of the others to be “Beep beep, Richie.”

Despite what Richie said being true - Bill was probably only a few inches shorter than her -, Bev could instantly recognize him. Though she knew for a fact she no longer had the childish feelings that she had once had towards him, he was still the Bill she loved. She loved them all; they were her boys, her friends, her Losers. She knew that the others felt the same, too.

“What have you been up to, then?” Bill asked, smiling at them all.

Beverly shrugged. “Well, it depends. Do you want to know how our lives have been, or about what bullshit we’ve already been through less than twenty-four hours in?”

Richie’s eyes widened, looking at them all in turn. “Already? Damn, why am I surprised. Bullshit’s the only thing Derry’s full of, other than bullying, that is.” He paused. “Seriously though, are you guys okay? No stab wounds, I’m assuming?”

Ben smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, if we did get stabbed, we’ve got Dr. Kaspbrak here to help us.”

Eddie ducked his head. “I mean, I’d need time and equipment, and the wound would have to be stable and not fatal immediately, but other than that, I’d try my best. Besides, despite the fact that I have a doctorate, my job description is technically a nurse.” He looked Richie directly in the eyes, pointing a finger at him. “And you can’t make a joke about it, you hear that? I already hear enough of them, okay?”

Mike smiled a little. “Well, do you at least like it? Your job, that is.” Eddie smiled a little before nodding.

“Personally, I’m offended that little Eddie Spaghetti thinks I’d make fun of him.” Richie said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “After all, it’s not like I didn’t know that this is the road life would take you down, Mr. Grey’s Anatomy.”

Stan tried to keep himself from smiling. “Even if it’s just a doctorate, that would still be Dr. Grey’s Anatomy.”

Bill looked around at them, looking slightly exasperated. “No, seriously, I want to know if you guys are okay. And, by bullshit, do you mean…” He looked around, seeming nervous that someone would overhear what he was talking about. “...It problems?”

Bev looked at at her shoes. “Yes, It problems.” She replied. “When we tried to check into the motel, what we thought was a little girl appeared. Then, It made her ask about why we didn’t save her, and had her clothes rip and her neck snap. It didn’t hurt us, It was just mocking us. It also asked us what we were doing here.” She looked up, meeting everyone’s eyes one at a time. “It knows we’re here, and It’s not happy, but what did we expect? We all know this isn’t going to be easy. We’ve just got to get over ourselves and kill that asshole. No one’s going to kill It for us.”

Ben smiled at her, before looking at everyone else. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m excited to kill It, but we need to do it, and soon.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie cut in, continuing as everyone turned to look at him. “I’m fucking excited.”

There was a moment of silence, before, of course, Richie broke it. “Well, guess we can send Eddie down to deal with it then.” As he spoke, he got shoved by Eddie, which he only laughed at. 

Bill still looked concerned, looking to Mike. “Do you know if she was real? Did she go missing recently, or a long time ago? Did you recognize her?”

Mike held up his hands to placate Bill. “I didn’t recognize her, and when I looked for old missing persons’ reports, I couldn’t find anything on her. Either Pennywise made her up, or she’d been missing for a long time. And her clothes were old fashioned, too; an old dress that looked like it was from the 1960s or so.”

Stan ran his hand through his hair. “I mean… we’re free tomorrow. For the clown killing thing.” 

Bev looked at him for just a moment before laughing. “Are you scheduling this trip? Our fight with a killing clown?” It was just such a Stan thing to do; she was surprised he hadn’t tried to do this the last time.

He looked back at her, a smirk on his face. “Are you really surprised?”

Ben laughed, rolling his eyes fondly at the two of them. “We have lunch planned, I think. That Chinese place, I think. We can talk and catch up more there.” 

—

Eventually, their group headed over to the Jade, talking amongst themselves about their lives and the people in them. Ben didn’t have much to add, but he enjoyed hearing about everyone else. He listened attentively as Eddie complained about his coworkers, as Bill talked about picky directors, when Mike talked about the library, when Stan talked about his housemate, as Richie talked about other comedians. He had to admit, though, he listened a little closer when Beverly talked about her divorce. Obviously, he wasn’t doing so because he thought he had a chance with her; though his childhood feelings still held true, his number one concern was making sure that she was safe and happy. He found himself angry when she discussed, in brief terms, about how her former husband had treated her.

“I’m glad that you were able to leave.” Ben said quietly, smiling at her. She was his friend first and foremost, and he wouldn’t want any of his friends staying with someone like that.

She smiled back at him as the waitress came to seat them. Ben found himself feeling more than a little bad for her; their group was pretty big, after all. He sat down between Bev and Mike, near the end of the table. He was pulled from his thoughts from Richie clearing his throat. “You know, it really isn’t fair that you all aged well and I look like I was pulled out from a dumpster.”

Eddie didn’t look up from the menu. “There were multiple reasons we called you trashmouth, and explaining them all would take too long.” He said casually.

Bill laughed. “I’m glad we didn’t meet ten years ago. I had a brief phase of wearing a ponytail; not a good look for me. Audra, my agent, had to threaten to cut it off about fifteen times for me to cut my hair.”

Mike smiled at the other man. “I’m sure it didn’t look that bad; and even if it did, everyone makes fashion decisions they regret.”

Stan snorted a little. “Besides, it was the early 2000s, Bill. If you don’t hate how you looked back then, then you’re a liar.” He said dryly, though he was still smiling at them.

“I can confirm this, as a fashion designer.” Beverly added with a roll of her eyes. “I was just starting my career, and with the things I pumped out back then, it’s a wonder I’m still employed. Sometimes I see pictures, and I feel like I want to hit my head against my desk.” She laughed, shaking her head. “It was the dark ages of the fashion industry, you know?”

Ben smiled at her, bumping their shoulders together gently. “I’m sure that nothing you’ve made has been that bad.”

Richie made a face. “I don’t know, Ben. Beverly’s great, but she’s also a fashion designer; pretty sure I’d trust her with what she says was bad. Like Stan said so eloquently before - it was the early 2000s. Everyone was making bad decisions back then.”

Eddie cocked his head, making a noise of agreement as he took a drink of water. “You’re certainly not wrong. I was just out of medical school, and I had no idea what to do with my life without it.”

“I can’t believe it.” Richie said with false surprise. “Our dear friend Eddie, having a quarter life crisis? I thought his entire life was a crisis, what with the way he’s always acted!”

For his efforts, he was shoved, though Eddie looked at least mildly amused. “Yeah? Well, you’re having a midlife crisis, asshole. I’ve seen your comedy specials.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen Richie’s comedy specials? Willingly?”

Mike chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t be rude, Stan. I’ve seen a couple too; I couldn’t help it, not after learning he was famous. I’ve also looked at Ben’s buildings, Bev’s clothing lines, and I’ve read Bill’s books.”

Bill looked surprised at that; Ben could relate, though he was mostly flattered. “You’ve read my work?” He asked. “Which ones?”

“If you haven’t at least heard of Bill’s books, you’re living under a rock.” Beverly said, looking proud; unlike he would have been at thirteen, Ben wasn’t jealous. He’d never really liked jealousy, anyways. It felt ugly, and wrong, to feel like that when your friends were happy. Besides, he knew now that they all loved each other, though maybe not in the same ways. And he was pretty sure what there had been between Bev and Bill had faded away peacefully.

He smiled, shrugging. “It’s true; I’ve gotten a few recommended to me, though I’m afraid I’ve never gotten around to reading any.”

Soon after, they ordered, talking continually about something or another until they were finished with their food. Ben felt like everything was both the same and different. He fit back in easily, and was reminded of why he’d loved these guys so much. Though they weren’t codependent at all, they slotted in easily into each others’ lives like puzzle pieces. He could see himself in another universe where they had all stayed together easily. It made him wish that had happened, but that just made the reunion better. Besides, now they had technology, and were aware of what happened when you left Derry. They could exchange numbers, write down everything to make sure they wouldn’t forget again.

Then they were given their fortune cookies. They each took one and opened them, reading them with frowns and looks of confusion.

‘They know your secret’ for Richie.

‘Never be happy’ for Eddie.

‘Left you alone’ for Stan.

‘It doesn’t take three to tango’ for Mike.

‘Can’t escape from him’ for Bev.

‘Too late to turn back’ for Bill.

And Ben’s was ‘Still pathetic, after all these years’.

As soon as they were finished sharing them in confusion, Ben’s sprouted legs. He dropped it in horror, briefly seeing that the others’ had done the same. “THE CLOWN!” Richie yelled as several of them sprouted wings and came flying at them in all directions. Ben grabbed the table centerpiece, smashing it on any of the creatures he could reach.

“Can’t leave now! Can’t leave now!” The little things chanted in high pitched voices, like the buzzing of insects.

Stan made a noise, and when Ben looked over, he could see a small trickle of blood; did they have talons or something? They only stopped when Mike hit his chair over the table, suddenly disappearing. The rest of them were left panting; Bev had somehow pushed herself in front of Ben, Bill was holding on to Stan’s arm, and it looked like Richie and Eddie had been fighting, consciously or not, about who would push themselves in front of the other.

The waitress headed over, face pale, and then quickly rushed away. Stan gasped for breath. “So, about tomorrow; Mike, you said you had a plan? Mind sharing that with us?”

Mike had seemingly been checking up on Stan, but still looked surprised to be addressed. “Oh,” he started, looking around at everyone. “I guess we should probably take this to the library, then. I have an apartment there, you know.”

Richie let out a breathless laugh. “Of course you live in the fucking library, you nerd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m usually self deprecating with my writing, but I actually quite like this chapter. Thanks to everyone who’s been reading this, and a special thanks to everyone leaving comments, kudos, and bookmarks!


	4. No Horror Movie Cliches, Okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things seem like they may be getting a little cliche.
> 
> Or, a more jokey summary-  
Eddie: what do you have?!?  
Bowers: A KNIFE  
Eddie: NO!  
Richie: oh my god why does he have a knife-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll notice It seems a bit weaker. Don’t worry, it’s a surprise tool that’ll help us later.

After… well, after whatever that was, they managed to make it back to the motel. Surprisingly, Richie actually hadn’t gotten all that drunk. Sure, he didn’t think he’d be able to drive, but at least this wasn’t going to be an entirely blacked-out night. It would be embarrassing for that to be his first impression to the others after almost three decades. Then again, he was sure that they’d seen worse sides of him. Even after not seeing them for so long, they knew everything about him. Well. Almost everything.

One of the things they didn’t know? Richie liked men. One of the troubles of being bisexual in Derry of all places is that you have to fully lean in to just one side of it. Therefore, that lead to him making a lot of jokes about being attracted to women. Some of which, he was really attracted to - cough, Winona Rider, cough -, while some of them he really wasn’t. 

The other thing that they didn’t know? The person who made him realize that.

Well, the person he actually knew that made him realize that. If you went up to ten year old Richie Tozier and said that in just one year’s time, he would not only have a crush on one of his best friends, but that it would be on the one and only Eddie “Spaghetti” Kaspbrak, he would laugh his ass off and call you the ruler of comedy… after looking at you weirdly for a few moments. But on February third, 1987 (because of course he remembered the date), Richie realized that ‘hey, you’re not calling him cute to annoy him, you’re calling him cute because you actually think he’s cute, dumbass’. Ever since then, he was absolutely insufferable around the other boy. Well, more so than usual, more like.

He wasn’t that obvious, he didn’t think. Not Ben or Bill levels of obvious, anyways. But it remained up until he left Derry at seventeen.

Richie dated for the last twenty-seven years, because of course he did, but he did feel an absence. Not necessarily just for Eddie, though, but for everyone in the Losers’ Club.

When he was reminded of what happened in 1989, Richie assumed that seeing Eddie again would be mildly awkward on his side, but nothing too bad. It’d been over two decades since they’d seen each other, after all. It wasn’t like there’d still be any feelings.

He was wrong, apparently, and that’s why he’s surprised that he did not, in fact, get blackout drunk. Though, evidently, drunk enough to have a huge internal monologue. He laid on his bed, arms stretched over his head, when he heard a scream. Immediately, he shot up straight, drunken haze leaving his mind temporarily as the familiar feeling of panic entered in its place.

He didn’t need to wonder who was screaming for long, seeing one of the doors had been propped open. Richie could see Bev, Ben, Stan, and Bill in the hallway, each looking confused; that meant it was Eddie’s room. Almost as soon as he thought that, someone who was decidedly not Eddie stumbled out of the room, clutching at its sides. Ben and Bev rushed forwards to grab it by its arms and keep it from getting away, and Richie ran to see where Eddie was.

The other Loser was leaning against the bedside table, clutching at his cheek. “Bowers. That’s Bowers; he got out. He was trying to kill me.” Eddie gestured with a knife. “He stabbed me!”

“Did you get him back?” Richie asked, mind going too fast to keep up. He was lucky Mike had decided to tell everyone the plan tomorrow.

Bill and Stan entered the room next. “Get who back? With what?” Stan asked, looking even paler than usual. “Am I going crazy, or does that look like Henry Bowers in the flesh out there?”

Eddie removed his hand from his face, revealing a wound. “Yeah, that’s Bowers. He tried to fucking kill me.” He was still panting, but started to smile, as if he couldn’t believe himself. “I pulled the knife out and stabbed him back, I guess.” He looked up. “It was just my first instinct, I guess.”

Before they could respond, Bev’s voice came from the hallway. “If this is Bowers, he’s bleeding out!”

Richie huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Nice going, Eds.”

They went out in the hallway, being sure to be as quiet as they could be. They didn’t want to draw any more attention than they already had. Bowers’ eyes were wild, but he remained silent, a jagged wound in his side. Ben and Bev were basically supporting him, more so than holding him back.

“Is he dying?” Bill asked, looking one of their childhood tormentors in his eyes, no hint of sympathy in his face.

Ben adjusted, laying Bowers on the ground. “I don’t know; it kind of looks like it, though.” He looked to Eddie, cocking his head in the bully’s direction. “What do you think?”

Eddie kneeled down, looking at the other man. He took out the knife again, stabbing Bowers once more. “If he wasn’t before, now he is.” He looked up, at them all. “I’m not dealing with two of these assholes. We’ve got to focus on the clown, not on Bowers.”

Richie shrugged. “I’m not complaining.”

“That’s great and all, but where the hell are we going to keep the body?” Stan asked. “Am I the only one thinking of these things?”

—

Bill wasn’t surprised when Mike was horrified as they told them about what happened the next day. “Are you okay? What did you end up doing with- with the body?” He asked, looking as though he was going to go prematurely gray. Honestly, Bill was kind of surprised he hadn’t already; if their situations were switched, he was pretty sure he’d have aged like twenty years more than he was supposed to. 

Beverly smiled. “We’re all okay. We were sure to get Eddie all patched up; he’s fine. He’s definitely proved that he can handle himself.” She was honestly a bit too proud their friend had killed a man, in Bill’s mind.

“We eventually decided to just put him in the woods.” Stan said, and Bill knew he was feeling vindicated that Mike was also wondering where they’d put the body. “With the way police in this town work, it’s not like they’d find us. After all, even if they do, we can easily argue self defense. And this is the least of our concerns. What’s your plan to kill the bastard?”

Richie put his hands up. “If it’s a horror movie cliche, I’m not doing it. So, like, if you stole ancient artifacts - “

Mike looked slightly offended at the notion. “Why would I do that? I’m a librarian, I respect artifacts. I can assure you it has nothing to do with anything like that.”

Ben shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Then what’s your plan? I mean, how do you even do research on this? I tried my best back when we were kids, and I know we’ve got a lot more resources now, but I doubt that there’s a step by step guide on killing the shapeshifting beast from your childhood that feeds on your fears.”

Bill snorted, amused. “Can we let the man speak?”

Mike nodded, looking thankful for Bill’s intervention. “Well, for many years I’ve been communicating with a being I believe may be related to It.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at that. “Related? You mean there might be more of these things out there?”

“No, there’s only one It.” Mike explained. “Maturin, the being, assured me of that. Anyways, he says he might be able to help us defeat It. What we need to do is try and recreate the blood drawing ritual. We need to go down to the sewers and join hands, and then cut our palms like before. Then, we just need to make sure that we understand what It really is.”

Bev looked confused. “What It really is? Was there any expanding on that, or are we just going to make it up as we go?”

Richie nudged her. “It’s making it up as we go, then we’ll find out that it was friendship all along. That’s what always happens in these sorts of stories. That, or something to do with true love, but we already went through that last time.”

Mike shrugged, looking upset that he couldn’t be more helpful. “I’m sorry, but that’s all Maturin said to me about it. He never elaborated, but he said that we were going to be able to beat It with his help.”

Stan sighed, patting Mike’s arm. “Well, it’s not your fault. I guess we’ll just have to improvise. I’m assuming we’ll need to do it in Its lair?” He groaned when Mike nodded in confirmation. “Of fucking course we have to go back down there.”

“I guess we need to get prepared, huh?” Bill closed his eyes, breathing in slowly. “Come on, we did this at thirteen. It shouldn’t be too hard to do it again at forty.”

Eddie screwed up his face. “Well, we better actually fucking kill It this time, because I’m not coming back again at sixty-seven, okay? I’m just not going to.”

Ben pulled out his phone. “Well, if that happens, let’s make it easier and exchange numbers. I’m not all that good at using this, but I can make sure I don’t forget. I don’t want to forget you all again; that was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Not Bowers, not It, forgetting you all.”

Richie laughed a bit. “Well, we can always ask Mike for that. After all, I’m sure he has a file on each of us.”

Mike looked embarrassed. “I don’t have any files! I just… well, four of you happened to get famous, and then Stan and Eddie’s information wasn’t hard to find. I had to try and contact you! It wasn’t stalking.”

Bev chuckled, rubbing his arm. “We’re just teasing you, Mike. We know you weren’t stalking us.”

Outside the apartment door, a bang rang out, causing the Losers to quickly go silent. They were each tensed, looking as though they were both ready for a fight and ready for it all to be over. “I’m not opening the door, you know.” Stan said, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “You could stand to be a little more creative, clown.”

As he spoke, the door started ratting, spiders rushing under the door and across the floor. Eddie sighed. “I’m a nurse, you think I’m scared of a few bugs? I’ve seen worse then this bitch can even dream of.”

“It can’t be all of our fears at once, not anymore.” Mike said, stomping on a few spiders. “We’re not kids anymore; our fears aren’t as concrete. There’s a reason It mainly goes after kids. The only reason It’s coming after us is because we made It pissed off.”

Bill snorted, actually feeling amused. Served the asshole right. “Are spiders the best you can do? Really?”

The spiders retreated slowly, leaving behind a red stain that formed words. ‘You’ll die if you try’. Just like when they went off to rescue Beverly. Richie let out a low whistle. “Okay. Gotta love the nostalgia, the callbacks, so points for that. But overall, the presentation could be better, and the creativity was really lacking. Not your best work, man; 4/10.”

Ben laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Why am I surprised that you’re grading the threats we receive?”

Stan leaned back against the wall. “Well, it’s not surprising It would lean back on old tricks. It’s not like It can transform into debt, or an empty bank account, or getting fired. Cut It some slack.”

“It’s kind of funny, when you think about it.” Bev said, an amused smile on her face. “Like, I wonder if It was looking through our minds like ‘wait, what’s a bank account?’”

Eddie looked at them all, looking like he was disappointed, but not surprised. He recovered quickly enough. “That’s the kind of attitude we should be taking into the sewers. This clown’s nothing to us, okay? Nothing. It’s just a fucked up asshole, and we just gotta deal with it. We’re the exterminators here, and that’s the roach.”

Mike chuckled with a shrug. “If that’s what you need to go down there, then go ahead. So long as It’s going down, I don’t care what attitude you have about it.”

—

Stan was thirteen years old and he’d just faced his worst fears. At home, his mom had fret over his wounds, but accepted his explanation that he’d fallen near the quarry. He was allowed to wash up, and had stared at himself for a mirror for longer than was normal. He kept expecting the clown to appear, and though he always thought he saw It, It never appeared. He leaned on the sink, trying to steady his breathing. Finally, he left, telling his mom that he was going to bed early tonight. She’d looked mildly concerned, but had let him.

Almost as soon as he entered his room, the phone his mom let him keep in there rang. Stan jumped, before heading to answer it. “Hello?” He asked quietly, still a little worried against all logic that That Thing would be on the other end.

“Stan?” He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding; it was just Bill. Just Bill checking up on him, like the good friend he was. And he hadn’t even stuttered on his name. “A-are you okay? How’s y-your face? Are your par-parents handling it o-okay?”

He sat down at his desk chair. “I’m okay. My face doesn’t hurt too much; my Mom made sure it was clean, and she doesn’t think it’ll get infected. I don’t even think Dad’s noticed, though. How are you doing? Do your parents think anything’s going on?” Stan doubted it; Bill’s parents cared way more about Georgie than they did about their eldest child. And now Georgie’s dead. It hadn’t fully sunk in yet. His best friend’s little brother, a boy he’d babysat, was dead. Eaten by that clown. He could feel tears well up, and he blinked them away. He’d cried too much today.

Bill sighed on the other end. “T-they didn’t even ask. M-Mom just wanted to know if I’d pr-practiced with my talking anymore.”

Stan thought privately about how unfair it was that only Richie had good, alive parents. Mike’s parents had sounded good, sure, but… they were gone. “I don’t mind your stutter, you know.” He said quietly. “Stuttering isn’t a bad thing. It’s just something that you do, not something you can help.”

He heard the other boy laugh a little, soft and to himself. “I g-guess it’s not the worst thing in the world, if you l-like it.” Something about that felt nice to Stan. “I sh-should call the others, make sure t-they’re alright. Bye, Stan; we can all m-meet up tomorrow, okay? At noon, at the Ba-barrens.”

He wanted to keep talking, but he couldn’t exactly ask about it. Not when Bill had to talk to the others. “Okay. Bye, Bill.”

Stan was about to set down the phone when it rang again. “Hi, is this the Uris place? Sorry, I had to find your number in the phone book. Can I talk to Stan, please?” Even with the phone making it sound all distorted, he could still tell it was Mike.

“Mike?” He asked, surprised; why was he calling?

The other boy sounded just as surprised, though this surprise was that Stan had actually answered the call. “Oh, hi, Stan! I just wanted to call you and see if you were okay. I know this put you through a lot. I’m gonna call Bill, too; he’s also probably pretty shaken, with all that went on.”

He chuckled; Mike and Bill had thought of the same thing. “Well, I know Bill’s going to call you soon. He just told me; he called me a few seconds ago, to do the same thing you’re doing.”

“It might sound weird to look you up in the phone book, but I just wanted to see if you were okay.” Mike sounded embarrassed at the other end, like he’d somehow made a fool of himself.

Stan laughed again. “It’s not weird. I’m happy you were thinking of me. I’m fine, thanks, and I heard that Bill was okay, too. Don’t worry, okay? We beat that thing, and even if we didn’t, it’s like Ben said; we’ll be forty and far away from here by the time It wakes up again. We don’t have to worry about It anymore.”

Mike chuckled. “I guess. I’m just glad you’re okay, Stan. I was scared when you got hurt.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by his dad. “Stanley! Get off of that phone and go to bed like you told your mother you would!” His father yelled. Stan groaned.

“Sorry, but my Dad says that I have to go. You’re okay, right?”

Stan didn’t have to see Mike to know the other boy was smiling. “Yeah. I’m okay, Stan.”

“That’s good, then. Thanks again, Mike.” He smiled to himself as the call ended, setting down the phone and getting ready to go to bed for real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading! I really liked writing Stan’s flashback. His parents are based off his book parents; decent-ish mom and jerk dad.


	5. Ugh, Sewers Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rule number one of horror movies? Don’t split up. That’s what the stupid people do, and the Losers aren’t stupid.
> 
> Or, they’re trying not to be, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly written while I was sleep deprived, so I apologize if the quality’s different, lol.

Mike didn’t exactly know what one would bring to fight a supernatural, cannibalistic being, but he gave the others a list anyways. Basic first aid, water bottles, and a couple of things to possibly use as weapons. He didn’t exactly know what would affect the thing, but he brought his old nail gun anyways, both for nostalgia and because it at least seemed to hurt It last time. He didn’t exactly have armor, but he did wear an extra layer, at least. He grabbed a flashlight and was as ready as he could be.

When he made it to the quarry, he was glad everyone else seemed to at least bring something. They couldn’t exactly wing it without supplies. “So,” it was Richie who broke the silence, as per usual. “Anyone want to give a rousing, motivational speech?”

Bill shrugged. “I mean, we’re finally killing this fucking thing. That’s all the motivation I need, personally.”

Beverly’s facial expression hardened. “Same here, Bill. I think we just have to do this, no holding back. We’ve got to get down to Its main lair and do the blood ritual again. Do you guys remember where you were when we did this the first time?”

Everyone nodded, and Stan smiled. “Then let’s kill the damn thing already.”

With that, they all stepped into the water, heading to the entrance. They walked slower than they normally would, to Mike’s relief; he had warned them about It possibly trying to stop them. He didn’t want a shark or something suddenly appearing.

As they entered, Mike could hear Eddie take in a slightly shaky breath. “God, I hate this fucking place so much.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone’s particularly fond of it, if that makes you feel better.” Ben muttered under his breath.

He heard Richie laugh. “If it makes you feel any better, I could hold your hand.” Mike couldn’t see them, but he could hear Eddie talking quietly and rapidly. He smiled to himself.

Mike nearly jumped as he felt a hand on his arm. “It’s just me, I swear.” Bill whispered. “I was just trying to make sure we didn’t get separated.”

A screech came from farther ahead, and they could hear the flapping of wings. “I don’t care if they’re real or not, these fucking bats are the worst.” Stan said, throwing up a rock to try and hit one of them. It missed, and the rock fell back down.

From two different places, rocks fell suddenly with a crash. Mike ran to the one nearest to him, and could see it reached the ceiling. “Is everyone okay?” He called, banging his fists against the rock.

“We’re fine!” He could vaguely hear Eddie’s voice. “None of them fell on us, but Ben and Bev are on the other side. Richie and I are stuck in this clearing, and a tunnel opened up from one end that wasn’t there before. It’s trying to separate us.”

Bill groaned. “Have you checked on Ben and Bev yet? We need to make sure they’re alright.”

Mike could hear Richie faintly from behind the rocks. “They’re okay! Ben got knocked to the ground by the force, but he’s fine other than that. What about you three?” He seemed to be on the opposite side of the clearing, nearer to the other two than Eddie was.

Stan was already pacing. “We’re fine too. We need to find out where the main lair is; this thing’s messed up my bearings.”

Mike knocked on the rocks again. “Eddie, you’re the one with the best sense of direction. Can you tell where it is? Remember, it was the place where the kids were floating, with the weird pile of things.”

A pause from the other end. “You, Stan, and Bill are basically right on path. If me and Richie go down the tunnel and turn right, we’ll get to a door that’ll drop us right down on it, like the Neibolt house. Ben and Bev also have a tunnel, they need to turn two rights and a left then follow the trail until they reach it.”

Bill nodded. “We’ve got to meet up, so try and go as quick as possible. Don’t listen to anything the bitch tries.”

“Be careful.” Stan called, before turning to Mike and Bill. “Should we try and start making our way to Its lair now? Because I don’t want to stay in these sewers any longer than I have to.”

Mike took in a breath, taking one last glance back to the others, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see them. “I suppose we might as well.” He said after a while. “Be prepared, and know that It’s trying to trick us. It wants us to be scared.”

Bill smiled a little. “Then don’t give It the satisfaction.” He said. “I’d rather die than do that.”

Stan sighed, cracking his neck. “Then let’s go.” They started making their way down, with Bill leading the way. “Someone care to take a guess about what It’ll try with us next? Going once?” Stan paused for a second. “Apart from Richie for almost three decades and I still spend too much time with him.”

A soft ripple of water splashed against their legs, and they stopped, almost impatiently waiting for what they knew would happen next.

A figure no one had seen in years ran around the corner, tears streaming down his face. It resembled Georgie well enough, but Georgie if he truly had spent years in the sewer. Though he wasn’t any older - the clown wasn’t creative enough for that - Georgie looked hungry and fearful, with bags under his eyes and a ripped up raincoat. The filthy imposter ran to them. “Billy! Bill, I’m scared. I just woke up, and now I’m down here, and there was a clown, and -“ It broke into a sob, a convincing one too; after all, It surely had a lot of experience with crying children. “Billy, you have to believe me, I want to go home!”

Bill was silent for a moment. “You tried this on me thirty years ago, and you still think it will work?”

Mike took out his nail gun, aiming it at the figure. “Bill, we have to get It now, get It while It’s small.”

“Bill, please.” The thing that wasn’t Georgie pleaded, hiccuping a little in a way that made Mike and Stan cringe. They knew how It had learned to imitate panicking kids.

Bill hesitated, before lunging forwards; the figure disappeared, crumbling into dust that was swept away by the water. Stan groaned, kicking at the water. “Can you fucking fight us already? God, what a pathetic asshole.”

—

Eddie listened as Mike and the others walked away, before sighing. “Okay, you told Bev and Ben what to do, right?” He checked, looking over to where Richie was. Ugh, they were both filthy; he hoped no one got seriously hurt, because he was sure this place would infect the wound within an instant. He could already imagine his coworkers freaking out that people had willingly gone down here in the first place, much less more than once.

“Yes sir, Dr. K!” Richie said, exaggerated salute and all. He’d actually been talking to them quietly for a while, but that can never last.

Eddie rolled his eyes, though he supposed he couldn’t exactly complain about being called that when it was accurate. “Are you ready for us to probably get a million different infections down that tunnel, then possibly get even more injuries when we go to the lair? Because when Mike said a basic first aid kit, I didn’t bring any splints or casts, like an idiot.”

He could barely see Richie and still managed to guess at what facial expression the other was making. “First of all, I think I just had the equivalent of a Vietnam flashback to you going on about staph infections at thirteen. Second of all, I don’t think he expected you to bring all of that. It’s not like we’ll need it. After all, we basically killed it once before, and we were babies. This is a mercy kill so It no longer had to live with the fact that It’s a failure who can’t even kill teenagers properly. Every horror movie monster’s ashamed of this bastard.”

Eddie snorted. “If it’s a mercy kill, I don’t want to do it. I want It to suffer, and like hell will I show It any mercy.”

“I mean, you’ve already killed one childhood bully.” Richie replied. “So that was pretty much a warm up, or, like, an appetizer. This is the main course! The equivalent of this would be me punching my own self esteem repeatedly in the balls before it cowers.”

He let out a long sigh. “Okay, so your talking privileges have been revoked. No more talking from you. We need to focus on murdering the shit out of this thing.”

Richie seemed to take this as permission to start walking. “Not even the Lord can stop me from talking. I mean, think about it. Have I ever been quiet for a straight minute at a time? In the want, thirty four years we’ve known each other? It’s a talent I have, okay? And if you don’t appreciate it, then you don’t deserve me.”

He actually considered this for a moment. “There was one time, in winter, where you were quiet for like five minutes and I thought you had a stroke. That was… we were eleven, I think? Anyways, I said I’d be happy to wear Princess Leia’s costume, the white dress, because it looks comfortable - and it still does, asshole - and you stared off into space before making a dick joke or something.”

For the second time in a concerningly short period, Richie was quiet for a while. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Eddie asked. “I mean, I don’t remember exactly what you said, or why we were talking about Princess Leia’s clothes, but I can remember the basics.”

Richie stopped, and Eddie was about to ask what was wrong when the other spoke. “The doors are over there.”

The two walked - or, well, waded - over to the doors. Three of them, just like in the house. Wooden things, with messy red lettering labeling them ‘Very Scary’, ‘Scary’, and ‘Not Scary At All’. “It’s a reverse psychology thing.” Eddie mumbled to himself. “Not scary at all will be awful, very scary will be okay. But which one leads to the tunnel?”

“How did you know there were doors here? This is the sewer.” Richie asked, looking up at the doors as if they’d spill their secrets if he just looked at them long enough.

Eddie shrugged. Sometimes, he just kind of. Knew where things were. He could make a map in his head, and track his movements along it. “I don’t know. I just kind of knew it, like I know things sometimes.”

Richie looked at him questioningly, gesturing to the door. “Well, does your direction thing tell you which door is right?”

He sighed, the sound loud and long. “If it did, then I wouldn’t exactly be standing here.” Eddie said, more frustrated at the situation than at Richie. “I think we should start with very scary this time; it makes sense for It to put the entrance after that door.” Unless, of course, he was wrong, and none of the doors lead the the lair. 

“Very scary it is.” Richie said with a shrug, opening the door. All was quiet for a moment, and Eddie reluctantly illuminated the area with a flashlight. They heard a bark, and looked down; a very small dog, a Pomeranian it looked like, was sitting there, looking up at them and wagging its tail. “So, we can agree this is a trick, right?” Richie backed up slowly.

Eddie nodded. “Absolutely. I mean, at least it’s momentarily cute. I love dogs; cats too.”

The thing that was decidedly not a Pomeranian yapped as Richie closed the door, and they could hear growls behind the wood. “Which door next, then? You’ve got a fifty-fifty shot this time.”

Without verbally answering, Eddie opened the door labeled ‘Not Scary At All’, bracing for… well, for anything and everything. It opened up to what looked to be an empty closet. “So, it’s just a closet, then?” He asked, a little confused. Nothing really looked particularly threatening. It was just a closet.

“You’re seeing this too?” Richie asked, and something about his voice sounded different. Oh.

Before he could say anything, they heard a groan, and the familiar face of the leper lurched forwards. Instinctively, Eddie slammed the door shut, actually managing to get the thing’s fingers caught. He held it shut until the rotting fingers disappeared. “Last door. Open the last one.”

—

Beverly nodded, taking a breath and stepping back. “Okay. Okay, we can do this, Ben.” Though she addressed Ben, she was really talking to herself. “Two rights, a left, then follow the trail.” She looked up at him. “You got that? Remember, we’ve also gotta keep an eye out for whatever the bitch’ll throw at us. But we can handle it.” She paced as she spoke, wincing on the inside about the sewage in her shoes; this place didn’t bring back good memories at all.

He nodded as well, smiling a little. “We can handle it. You ready to head out, then?” Ben was clearly terrified in his own right, but seemed to be trying to make her feel better.

She swallowed, balling her fists then releasing them. “Yeah, I’m ready.” They headed off together, as Bev repeated in her head Eddie’s instructions. Two rights, a left, follow the trail. Two rights, then a left, then there’s a trail to follow. They can do this. Beverly wasn’t scared so much as having a lot of balled up, anxious energy. They were going to get this over with, finally. After a few moments of walking, the steady dripping that they had been hearing stopped. Okay, well at least they had a bit of a tip off before whatever was thrown at them.

“Get ready.” Bev heard Ben say under his breath, holding on to her arm. The grip was tight enough so they wouldn’t lose each other, but not tight enough to hurt. It seemed he was always looking out for everyone else, even in the little ways that she wouldn’t even normally be thinking of. She was glad this was consistent even into adulthood.

The dripping started back up again, this time directly over head. As the liquid fell on her face, she didn’t need to see it to know it was blood. She breathed in, slow and careful, before exhaling in a long sigh.

Beverly bit her lip, gently prying her arm from Ben’s grasp before holding his hand. Echoing from somewhere further ahead, she heard an awful, familiar voice. “Bevvie…” God, for as much as they made fun of It, It at least was somewhat talented in Its illusions. It had gotten the drunken slurs of her father’s voice through using only the nickname.

She wasn’t surprised when her father, or something that looked like her father, appeared. Ben squeezed her hand reassuringly, but when she looked up at him, she saw his furious face. Bev was sure to squeeze back, catch his gaze, and smile softly. Ben swallowed, stepping back a bit to let her handle this.

“I’m not scared of you. Not anymore.” Though she knew that this wasn’t actually her father, it helped her. “You’re a pathetic, nobody of a man, and I feel sorry for you more than anything. I could have a whole speech about this, but you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve the effort.” She could almost see herself in the corner of her eyes, young and afraid, not knowing why her father was the way he was. Searching for a reason she would never get. Because sometimes, people do horrible things for no reason at all.

Between one blink and the next, It was gone. She was more than a little surprised that it was that easy, when she heard a faint splashing sound.

As it grew closer, she could hear more noises; screaming, panting, crying. It sounded like the other Losers. “It’s not real.” Ben whispered; it sounded more like he was talking to himself than her. She squeezed her eyes shut. Even knowing that it wasn’t her friends, that It was trying to trick her, it didn’t make her want to look at what It had come up with to try and scare her and Ben. 

The hand holding hers gripped tighter. “This isn’t real. Fuck off, you dumbass clown.” She whispered. “Fuck off.”

The noises were growing closer and closer, and she could now recognize that It was imitating each loser in pain. It made them say things against her and Ben, berate them for most anything.

She could hear one start to whisper to Ben, and just as she was trying to decipher it, she heard a loud thump.

Beverly opened her eyes to see Ben, clearly having just punched one of the clown apparitions. She couldn’t see them anymore; It clearly was either messing with the others now, or had retreated back to Its lair to wait for them. “Did that make you feel better?” She teased lightly, though if he hadn’t done it, she probably would have. She wouldn’t have hesitated.

Ben smiled a little, looking at the fist that had made contact. “Honestly? Yeah.”

“Good thing we’ll all get to try it.” Bev said, cracking her knuckles in preparation. With a shared nod, they headed off down the path that Eddie had laid out for them, determined that if they could get the clown to leave them alone with just the two of them, getting rid of It permanently would be a piece of cake with all seven of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, the reason It’s easy to get rid of is because It’s being spread in three different directions at once. That’s hard, okay?


	6. At Least It’s Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If they’d known bullying It would do so much, they’d have done it twenty-seven years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m bad at writing fight scenes, but I feel this is pretty decent.

Evidently, he and Bev were the last to arrive, because the others were in active combat. It didn’t seem like it had been going on for too long, but he could hear Mike’s nail gun go off, and see Its monstrous form. It looked almost like a spider; horrifying in a cartoonish fashion. What was that thing again - where something was familiar enough, but different enough to make you afraid? Uncanny valley. Yes, this thing was very uncanny valley. It looked almost like one of those puppets he was so scared of as a little boy. But he wasn’t scared of puppets anymore. He convinced himself he wasn’t scared of much at all. This thing was nothing compared to what people already dealt with on a daily basis.

Beverly didn’t hesitate before jumping in, taking out a slingshot and a gray lump. She caught him looking, and smiled. “Pure silver. Don’t know if it’ll work, but it seems to do a lot against supernatural things.” At least, she didn’t add, it does in movies and books. But she didn’t have to; that was the thing about Bev. You always can understand her.

She was so brilliant, he couldn’t predict what she would do next. He’d have never thought of using silver, but she’d even brought several lumps, it seemed. It seemed like a good idea; she was an amazing shot with her slingshot.

He opened his own bag, taking out the first thing he could find at a hardware store; a grappling hook. Ben pointed and aimed, firing it at the rocky ceiling. He pulled, hard, bringing the hook back and leaving rubble collapsing on It. As the rocks came crashing down, It let out a harrowing sound, but Ben was less scared when he realized that it sounded like a cheap imitation of one of the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park. If he stopped being scared of those years ago, he could stop being scared of this thing.

Ben heard a laugh from next to him, and turned to see Richie, holding a baseball bat much like the one when he was younger. “A fucking grappling hook? Benny boy got creative!” He wasn’t in close enough range yet to actually hit It, so he picked up one of the pieces of rubble and threw it. “Die, asshole!” He seemed gleeful at the opportunity to even cause It a minor inconvenience. Ben could definitely relate to that.

The others seemed mildly injured at most. He could see Eddie, unarmed until Bev came over with the fence post she’d used last time; she’d probably carried it in her duffle bag. He couldn’t hear the exchange, but Eddie nodded and clasped it tight against his chest, knuckles going white around the black metal. He looked like he was debating throwing it right then and there, but he didn’t, instead throwing a few rocks.

Mike apparently had a lot of knives; seeing as he and Bill were both carrying several. However, Stan seemed more comfortable holding a golf club, somehow, holding it almost like it was a sword. Ben laughed a little; that wasn’t surprising to him. He didn’t necessarily understand it, but it seemed like something that Stan would do.

Bev aimed the slingshot with the piece of silver, aiming at the monster’s eyes. It screeched, but Ben wasn’t quite sure if it actually worked, or if It was upset she tried it. Either way, she seemed satisfied with the reaction, smiling to herself as she took out another lump.

It reared up, and suddenly one of Its claws detached, heading towards Stan, who dodged. The man only seemed annoyed at this, going forwards and hitting It with his club. It staggered a little, surprisingly, and Ben pulled himself and Richie away from danger. Didn’t want to get crushed by It, of all the ways to die in this confrontation. He bit his lip, watching It as It seemed to calculate the risks, processing how to kill them all.

Ben spotted Beverly and Eddie making their way over to Stan, Bill, and Mike. “We need to go to the others.” He said, looking back to the other man. “We need to do that ritual thing again, all together.” That was why Mike brought knives, he thought dimly. Blood ritual, again. Might as well; this seemed enough like a cyclical thing, after all.

“Roger that.” Richie said with a nod. It seemed to realize they were trying to get all together, and started firing off Its claws at random, mainly aiming at the other five. Ben swore under his breath, missing Richie picking up a large piece of rubble. “Hey, you!” He called, waving his arms as It turned around with a low growl. “Yeah, you, you sloppy bitch! Why don’t you fuck off?!?” He threw the piece of rubble directly at Its head. He seemed unhinged, like he didn’t even care about any possible consequences. Ben could already feel himself growing tired of keeping the others out of trouble.

It looked annoyed, and suddenly - “Look away!” Ben screamed, covering his eyes as It let out Its deadlights. He remembered when they were kids, seeing all of the floating missing children. Like candy wrappers. He shuddered a little at that thought, remembering seeing Beverly floating, her head tilted back and staring up at nothing.

He heard Richie stop yelling, and uncovered his eyes slightly. Oh God, Richie was caught; he was floating and everything. Ben’s thoughts raced as he tried to figure out how to help. He should try and pull him down by the feet, first. Think about how to snap him out of it later. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening.

As he started forwards, he could hear a rapid splashing, and the shining deadlights disappeared. He looked up, confused, to see the fence post piercing directly through Its body. He stared in shock, barely registering Eddie rushing past him, before coming to and running after him, kneeling beside Richie. That fall alone was concerning; they weren’t thirteen anymore. After all of this running, he was already starting to breath a little heavier.

The other Loser’s eyes were still a milky white; still in the deadlights. But as he watched, Richie slowly came back to himself, breathing shallowly and staring at Eddie. “I think I did it.” Eddie said, starting to grin to himself. “I think I killed It!” He said, looking surprised and gleeful at the same time. Like It wasn’t right there behind him.

Ben saw It begin to rear up out of the corner of his eye. “Move!” He screamed, barreling into the other men and knocking them to the side, hissing as the claw grazed his back. If that had hit them… he didn’t want to think about it. “Are you okay to get up and walk? Because we need to go to the others.” Speaking of the others, he could hear them fighting It, but he didn’t want to look in case It had Its deadlights out again. He let out a silent apology for not watching them right this second. 

Richie swallowed, but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can walk.” He didn’t make any quip, looking almost nauseous; maybe he was realizing what might have happened if Ben hadn’t been there. He didn’t want to think about that anymore than he had to.

“Then we’ve got to move.” Eddie said, getting up and holding out his hand to Richie. Though it seemed silly, Ben looked away, trying to give them at least a second of something faintly resembling privacy. He smiled a bit to himself; took them long enough.

It turned to look at them, but Ben shot his grappling hook at It, managing to hit Its head. He smiled as It screeched, seemingly disoriented. “Come on, come on, come on.” He repeated to himself as they ran to the others. He kept glancing back behind him, as if Richie and Eddie would disappear if he didn’t look at them often enough.

Beverly looked at something behind them as they approached, eyes narrowing. She pulled out her slingshot, fingers covering the cup, and shot it. Though Ben couldn’t see anything swinging through the air, It reacted like It was shot. Bev caught him looking, and smiled with a wink. “It reacts if we genuinely believe in what we’re doing.” She explained. “It sounds silly, I know, but it seems to work.” That… was a bit anticlimactic, but who cares so long as they kill this thing and get out?

Bill shrugged. “Well, if it works, we might as well use it.” He said, looking at the others before nodding.

They got into position, each holding hands. “How long do we have to do this before we cut ourselves again?” Stan asked, looking around. “I don’t know if we can - “ He was interrupted by a roar, sounding a bit more desperate than before. That seemed like a good sign. Okay, now believe this will work.

Mike pulled out one of the knives, passing it around. “Use this. Just like last time, remember?” Ben did remember, remembered closing his eyes and trying to forget everything he had just witnessed.

It sent another claw out towards them, this time grazing Richie, who winced. Eddie started fumbling in his bag, pulling out his old inhaler. He jogged over to where It was, holding up the inhaler like it was a weapon. Like he believed it could help. “This is battery acid, fuckface.” He said simply, before spraying It. That seemed like the most effective attack yet; It staggered back with a growl, holding Its face. Ben could see it almost grow… smaller. What?

“Am I going crazy on adrenaline, or is that thing shrinking?” Richie said, looking pale. It was good to know that someone else was as confused about this as he was.

Ben grabbed the knife and cut his own palm. “Looks like it. I mean, that seems good, right? If It’s small, then It can’t hurt us. If… If we make it small.” He had an idea. “Guys, we all hate this thing, right?” He asked, starting to smile to himself.

The others looked at him like they couldn’t believe he was asking that. “Um… I would sure hope so.” Bill replied, looking like he was mildly concerned.

Luckily, Beverly seemed to come to the same revelation. He knew she’d get it. “This is all about believing, right? If we truly believe It’s pathetic - which It is - It’ll get weaker.” She nodded to him in understanding.

“Is that why this has been so easy?” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie turned to stare at him. “Easy?!? You call this easy?!? We’re all bleeding, and every last one of these wounds will be infected, and even if It’s tinier now, It’s still pretty fucking big!” Well, he was right about that. It still looked like some fucked up spider-thing.

Stan shoved him, though not enough to hurt him. “Shut up. Mike was saying that It’s different than It was when we were kids. And everything changed when Richie said he was going to kill It, remember? Now we’ve just got to try and do that, but more. But better.” Ben remembered that; remembered them all ganging up on It to help Bill.

Richie groaned. “Are we going to seriously bully this bastard to death?” He asked, squeezing his eyes shut.

Ben shrugged. “I mean, if it works, it works. Besides, It deserves a meaningless death like this.” He was suddenly pulled to Bev, watching as a claw whizzed by. It would have pierced him if she didn’t do that, he realized, and he began breathing heavier, eyes wide. That was the second time It had almost killed him during this fight. She let go, patting his arm, and he smiled at her gratefully.

Bill looked shaken. “Come on, join hands, then we can start in on this asshole.” He swallowed, visibly tensing.

As they made contact with each other, Ben’s hands started to burn. He could see from the others’ faces that they could feel it too, but still they held on. They had to, if this was what worked. A feeling in his gut, somewhere deep, told him to let go, and it seems like the others received that message too, judging by the way they jumped back as if suddenly realizing their hands felt like they were on fire. He shook them a little as if they’d fallen asleep.

Bev grinned, the expression looking triumphant. “You’re nothing to be afraid of. You’re nothing to anyone. You’re just a silly, desperate clown.” She seemed almost jovial as she insulted It.

It snarled, letting loose a claw, but it seemed to disobey Its aim, landing harmlessly at the Losers’ feet. It seemed like It was enraged that they were attempting this, but somewhere, Ben knew It was scared. Beverly kicked the claw with a laugh.

“You couldn’t even kill a group of teenagers.” Stan added next. “We were unarmed, unprepared, but you still couldn’t do anything to us. You’re less than worthless; you’re nobody.” His eyes burned, and he looked vindictive as It started bleeding from Its face, like what had happened to Stan so many years ago. The other man grinned, the smile wider than any Ben had seen from him.

Bill looked furious when he spoke. “The only reason you go after kids is because everyone else can see how useless you really are.” His voice was more broken, but still clearly convincing.

Mike crossed his arms, shrugging. “You’ve been here for so long, and you still haven’t learned not to mess with humans. Because humans are resilient predators; you rely on dirty, see-through tricks, while we wait until you tire yourself out. You should have never come to Earth in the first place.” He looked smug, gleeful as Its power diminished.

It was the size of the Pennywise they were all familiar with now, and It was angry, but each attack did nothing. Ben could see the glinting eyes of something behind It now, but he didn’t feel afraid. He felt reassured. “You’re a sad excuse of a clown. No one’s scared of you, not anymore. You’re a thing of the past, and we’re going to get rid of you today.”

Eddie stepped up then. “Do you know how many things can kill people in this world? If we were scared of all of them, we wouldn’t be able to do anything- not even live. A fucking pencil could kill us more effectively than you; at least the pencil would be useful to someone.”

“Sloppy bitch.” Richie said, then stopped. They all turned to look at him and he shrugged. “What? It doesn’t get the rights to a certified diss from Trashmouth Tozier. I wouldn’t waste my time and energy on It.”

Almost as if it were a last resort, It turned into a woman; Ben recognized her vaguely as Bill’s mother. “Billy, what did you do?” It asked, the desperation leaking through. “Where’s Georgie? Where’s your brother, Billy?”

Bill turned to the side and mumbled something quietly.

It smiled then, thinking that It had him. “What was that, Billy?”

He turned back to face It. “HE’S GONE!” Bill screamed, the raw emotion of every time he thought of Georgie clear in his voice. The others winced, and Ben couldn’t tell if they were sympathetic or just reeling from Bill’s exclamation.

That seemed to be the last straw, and It shrunk to almost the size of a toddler. Ben curled his lip in disgust at It; how could he have ever been afraid of such a thing? If he were a different person, he would have pitied It. But he didn’t. Mike walked over and stomped on It, turning It into dust as the others stared. “Did you guys want to do that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who has read, commented, bookmarked, and given kudos so far! There will be one more chapter after this, so tune in on Monday!


	7. A Neat Little Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love stories- don’t you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Bill was the last one out of the sewers, trailing along behind Mike and Stan. Almost as soon as he stepped out of there, he heard a rumbling noise, and Stan and Mike quickly pulled him forward as the structure collapsed. He found himself breathing a little heavier, panting a bit before swallowing. “Thanks.” He said simply, realizing that he had almost died. He’d almost fucking died, and not even due to the clown. What a fitting end, huh? For him to have spent so long opposing this stupid thing, and to die from rocks falling on him after It was dead.

“Don’t mention it.” Stan let go, and Mike pat his arm before they joined up with the others. They were checking out their injuries, and though they had ended up defeating It, he still couldn’t help but feel guilty they’d gotten hurt. Sure, he didn’t doubt that his friends could defend themselves, but he didn’t want them to have to. If anything, he should have been the one scraped by the claws. He should have been the only one injured. But then again, the others would never accept that. They were great like that. He knew all of them were perfectly willing to die down there. He was just glad that they’d all made it out. They all made it out. He couldn’t believe this was really happening; if they’d asked him, he’d have denied it, but he had been so certain one of them would die in there that he had constantly been on the verge of tears, no matter who it was. But his intuition was wrong, and he was never so happy for it in his entire life.

Mike winced as he looked at everyone’s injuries. “We should get cleaned up. Then, maybe, we can go to the hospital.” He sounded like he was already planning out the route in his head, and knowing him, he probably was.

Beverly looked at Ben’s cut. “Does it hurt a lot?” She asked, pulling up the ends of her shirt to wipe at the blood with a concerned frown.

He smiled over his shoulder at her. “Not much at all. I could barely feel it when it happened; so long as we keep it clean, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.” Ben reassured her, though anyone could tell that he really didn’t know what he was talking about.

Eddie nodded along. “Yeah, the wounds are pretty shallow. But we should still get a second medical opinion on that. You never know what injuries you might not be aware of because of adrenaline. Hell, one of you could have a broken bone, for all we know.” He sounded like he was working himself up just thinking about it, and Bill could almost see the gears turning in his head as he thought about how to make a makeshift sling if need be.

“Pretty sure we’d know if we had a broken bone.” Richie said; Bill noticed his arm was draped over Eddie’s shoulders. Ah, so that’s what that was. It was good he wasn’t imagining things, at least.

Bill tried to speak, but had to clear his throat first. He started again. “We did it. It’s gone; It won’t hurt anyone again. And-and we’re all here. None of us - “ he cut himself off. He didn’t think reminding everyone that they almost died would be appreciated. He was sure they all knew that now, if they didn’t before. “We all made it.” He smiled as he spoke, feeling like it was the first time he had felt truly happy, truly relieved, for a long time.

Stan smiled back at him a little. “We’re all okay.” He replied, voice quiet. He turned around then, a sudden fire within him. “You hear that? Fuck you!” Everyone started laughing at the outburst as Stan flipped off the rubble. He looked both embarrassed and triumphant, but he was standing tall in the water of the quarry.

“You all did good down there.” Mike smiled as the laughter died down. “I knew you would. I’m so happy you all came down here; I’m sorry for making you. I wouldn’t have if it were anything else.” He looked over at the town they could see in the distance. “I can finally get out of Derry.” Mike’s voice was soft as he spoke, and Bill felt a sudden urge to get him out of this stupid town as fast as he could, even if he didn’t know where they’d go instead.

Beverly put her hand on his elbow, eyes soft as she looked at her friend. “We’re all going to leave this town behind. But… not each other.” She turned then, smiling at each of them. For that moment, he felt a surge of love for her and for everyone else; he loved them all. Not in the same way, they all felt different, but the same in their intensity. He understood easily how each of them would have died to save any of the others, and he tried his best to project the fact that he would do the same. Though he didn’t speak it aloud, he had an odd sense that they didn’t need to be told.

Ben nodded, suddenly seeming to get excited. “Yeah, I don’t want to lose contact with you guys again! We have to keep in touch, okay? You guys are my first real friends, and Losers stick together.”

They all repeated the sentiment, before heading off, to hopefully get everyone cleaned off. As they walked, Bill looked idly at his palm, only to notice that the cut that he had made not even an hour ago had faded away, the skin where it should be being pink and new. Though it was unexpected, he didn’t feel surprised. It made sense, in a way; the scar and the cut were no longer needed. Besides, it wasn’t the oddest thing that had happened today.

-

None of the Losers noticed the small, dark green turtle crawling up from the sewers. It blinked at the sudden sunlight, shook its head as if clearing its mind, and followed the seven adults at as quick a pace as it could manage. Which, as one would imagine, was not a very quick pace at all.

-

After a shower, a forced visit to the hospital, and a surprisingly pleasant and enlightening conversation, Richie finally got to sleep. While a small part of him wished that Eddie was sleeping beside him, they had both agreed that the motel beds were much too small for that, and Eddie was concerned about messing up his bandages. Personally, Richie didn’t care if his bandages were messed up or not, but the good doctor knew best, and honestly he was happy enough just having his thirty years worth of feelings both validated and reciprocated. And so, he went to sleep, hoping to not have any nightmares, instead having more peaceful dreams- or, perhaps, dreams that would have his heart racing in quite a different way.

Of course, it was then that he found himself in a pitch black void, feeling no ground beneath his feet and yet not falling or flying.

Floating would be the right word for it, he supposed as he got his bearings together. He didn’t exactly feel scared; more so, a sense of calm had surrounded him, like when he had tried caffeine only to find it had the opposite effect on him only to never drink it again. However, he knew he hadn’t drank any coffee, so a tinge of suspicion stained the warm sense of peace he felt.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Richie tried, surprised his voice worked; it usually didn’t, in nightmares or otherwise weird dreams. It echoed slightly, which unnerved him enough for him to try and look around again.

Just like before, it was all black. Whoever said there weren’t any shades of black was a liar, because he was seeing them all right now. He felt almost weightless, and he had to look at himself in order to make sure he wasn’t just… well, just conscious and nothing else. He remembered that being a theory; when you die, nothing but your consciousness remains, even when the world ends. Was he dead? He didn’t feel dead, and he knew it would be fucked up if he died now after everything that had happened. However, he could in fact see his body, dressed in the same clothes he fell asleep in; he’d forgotten to change out of the clothes he’d worn to the sewer.

Though he couldn’t see anything other than black enter his field of vision, he heard a voice. “Hello, Richie Tozier.” The voice sounded both male and female, soft and loud, but the one thing that stayed the same was the tone. It seemed like it was trying to be friendly, but really sounded condescending, much like his teachers before they figured out what kind of student he was.

He wasn’t afraid of the voice, but he was still curious. “Who the hell are you?” He asked, because being unafraid meant that even if this was God or whoever, he wasn’t going to censor himself or act polite just because.

The voice laughed at the question. “The answer to that question would melt your brain and have it pouring out of your ears, dear one. The only reason you can understand me so much is because of your little gift, and my power. But for now, you may know me as a Friend- capital F, please, if you could honor It with that I would like it as well.”

Even though the Friend claimed that it wasn’t going to melt Richie’s brain, it still felt pretty melted. “Why am I dreaming of you?”

The Friend laughed again, and Richie genuinely couldn’t tell if it was mocking him or simply amused at his questions like a parent would be if their child asked if everything was black and white before they were born. “Richie, why do think that this is a dream? What makes you think that?” It asked, sounding like it was the latter. That… that was not comforting, but somehow he still felt warm and calm when talking to the Friend.

“Um… then why am I talking to you right now?” Part of the calm seemed to be muddling his brain, but not in the normal way. He felt like his mind was static, and he couldn’t reach through it. He could barely string his thoughts together.

“If it helps, you don’t have to speak aloud.” The Friend supplied in a cheerfully amused tone, and again he felt like a child having simple things explained to him by a parent.

What? Well, might as well make use of that. ‘Can you answer my fucking question, God?’ Wait, he suddenly thought of something. ‘What gender are you? I’ve just been referring to you as it in my head, but I don’t want to sound stupid, and also your voice really isn’t giving me anything to work off of here.’

A slightly confused hum. “I don’t suppose I really have one. I don’t mind which pronoun you use to refer to me, not really. You may choose one set, or just switch them all around.” Then, the Friend’s voice grew a little quieter, as if it were talking to itself. “I don’t understand you humans, you know. So close-minded- do you need labels on such silly things? And oh, the gendered words are ridiculous! People are always talking about how I’m the brother, and-“ it stopped itself, and Richie heard the sound of a throat clearing. “I apologize. If I had gone on much longer, you may have heard my language and gone brain-dead!” A cheery laugh.

Okay, let’s ignore most of that. ‘Can you just tell me why I’m here so I can fucking wake up already.’ 

“Oh! Well, I just wanted to congratulate you and your little companions for defeating my counterpart. Of course, you couldn’t do it without my help in any universe where you succeeded, but you usually manage to do pretty decent on your own!”

Richie was getting a really big headache now. ‘Okay, can I go and maybe have a semi-normal dream? Like, I’ll even take a nightmare at this point. You’ve congratulated me, good job. Thank you so much for helping us.’ A pause in his thoughts. ‘Wait, are you going to be doing this for everyone?’

The Friend made a noise he associated with people shrugging and saying ‘I don’t know’. “Well, depending on how you look at time, I already have talked to them! Or I will immediately after this, or a year after this. Or I’m talking to them right now! Either way, I am, I did, or I will.”

With a jolt, Richie woke up, and promptly forgot what he had dreamt about.

-

At the end of it all, they did not forget. The Losers stayed in contact, and though it took a while, they were all okay. Oh, you want to know how they’re doing? A bit nosy, but I’ll allow it. After all, I am kind of renowned for being nosy; though in my defense, it can be quite hard not to be, in my position. And I suppose you could argue the same for yourselves.

To start us off, Eddie Kaspbrak divorced his wife, to no one’s surprise but Myra. Though it was a long process, it ended up working up fairly well for him financially. This was good, for he packed up his bags, moved from New York after a meet up with Beverly, and lived on the West Coast. Now, you may be surprised at this; is this really the type of place where he would want to live? However, there is one key detail missing here; who he was living with. And who would Eddie Kaspbrak move across the country to be with, exactly?

Richie Tozier bought another, slightly smaller house, and got married as soon as he could to Eddie. Neither changed their last names legally, instead taking on the other’s last name as their middle name, which is a thing humans can do.

They adopted a Pomeranian, much to my amusement, and named it Marshmallow, as Eddie refused to name their dog ‘Butter’ no matter what color the dog was. They were perfectly happy together, and live a relatively quiet life, with Eddie still being a nurse and Richie’s fame staying mostly the same, except with another fan base. It turned out coming out and then writing your own jokes could end up being a very good business move; it was especially surprising when instead of middle aged men, the crowds were mainly made up of teenagers and 20-somethings.

Then, there was, of course, Beverly Marsh-Hanscom. Again, no one was surprised by this development at all. She stayed in New York, started a new fashion line, and even got a few commercial roles, though she’d turn down any cameo roles in movies or shows. She didn’t really want to be an actor.

Her husband, Ben Hanscom, was the happiest he had ever been; he had a wonderful wife, a good job, a dog, and he was still able to contact his friends. He was also gaining some success, but money didn’t really matter to him in the slightest. What mattered to him and his wife right now was the fact that she’d recently taken a pregnancy test… which turned out to be positive. Eight and a half months later, they would welcome Lily Georgia into the world, though she was called ‘Georgie’ by most everyone.

Mike Hanlon was able to finally leave Derry, and to go to Florida, which he’d wanted since childhood. He lived comfortably with Stan and Bill, though they were not all married as that was unfortunately not legally possible. However, they soon learned that legal marriage didn’t mean much at all. He was a librarian again, specifically a children’s one, and was known and well loved, with each and every child being excited to see him. He and his partners wouldn’t have children of their own, but Mike was perfectly satisfied with the kids at work. Besides, he had a cat, a dog, and he and Stan were attempting to convince Bill about having a chicken coop.

As previously mentioned, Stanley Uris lived in Florida with Mike and Bill. He was hired quickly at an accounting firm, where he quickly rose through the ranks. He got a new therapist, and was learning how to cope better, though it took him a long time to accept that it was okay that his disorder wasn’t curable. He called Patty once a week, after the Losers’ weekly call, and happily introduced her to each of his friends.

Finally, Bill Denbrough lived peacefully with the two men he loved romantically, writing his books and occasionally flying out to go to the sets of the films based on them. Audra took on a dual role, being both his agent and his editor, and also became a bit of a friend to the others, even if only because she and Stan shared the same sense of humor. He had also learned to write better endings; after all, he had his good ending.

Now, I hear you saying that if the story’s done, then why am I still talking?

Well, I’ll always be talking, just as I’ll always be watching. I’m glad to talk about how I was there with the Losers the whole time. How my sibling will possibly be coming back at some point within the next thousand years, if Its pride is able to take it.

How I’m fully aware that this is just one universe out of many. How each and every Loser have the Shine, even though they aren’t aware of it. 

Maybe my saying all of this to you seems out of place. Maybe even… out of character. 

However, you should come to learn that it all depends on interpretation. No, not the literary kind; the Shining kind. After all, do you really think I’ve been talking this whole time, to you, to the Losers? That I’ve been speaking English? That sounds a bit silly to me, if you don’t mind me saying.

Where I am, beings don’t have to communicate so primitively.

I’ve been projecting my thoughts and feelings this entire time. The Losers’ Shine abilities are strong, yes, but there’s no one with abilities that strong. So their feeble human minds are simply deciding to translate with the information that their Shine was able to gather. How it’s translated doen’t really matter if they get the general point. Bill sees me as a grandfatherly figure. Beverly believes that I’m a crotchety woman, sarcastic and dry. Richie saw me as an annoying, condescending authority figure. Ben, a kind little child. Mike, a booming-voiced leader, like a military general. Eddie saw me as a matronly older woman. And Stan… well, I must admit, his religion does color things quite a bit. I haven’t got one problem with religion myself, but I’m not God or a god or anything.

Where was I? Oh, yes, sorry about that.

Are these interpretations wrong? Yes and no. Yes, because none of those are what I am, and no because I am that in their minds. And minds are a very powerful thing.

It all depends on how I’m interpreted. How the Shining works. After all, how do you think I’m communicating to you right now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ending is based off of my brother and I’d theory that the reader in Stephen King’s works is supposed to have the Shining, and also based a little off of Lemony Snicket’s writing. Honestly, Maturin was frustrating when I read the books, so I decided to try and be like ‘well, they mean well, but are kind of.... really not human at all’. Like, if you guys know Steven Universe- Maturin’s White Diamond. Maturin’s fine with humans now, and doesn’t want them or their world to die, but... they’re odd, irritating little things, and he is decidedly different from them.

**Author's Note:**

> SUMMARY: Adrian and Don get harassed, Mike saves them, It eats the teens without Don or Adrian knowing.  
Hope you guys enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment/kudos/bookmark, or talk to me on tumblr @beverlymarshhanscom. See you next time!


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